


Bets, Blind Dates and other Bad Ideas

by Lasenby_Heathcote



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Air Hockey, Anal Sex, Angst, Bucky's niece is adorable, Fluff, Graphic designer Steve, Gyms, M/M, Misunderstandings, More angst than expected, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Security Guard Bucky, Stick figure drawings, Stucky Big Bang 2016, Switching, brock is a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasenby_Heathcote/pseuds/Lasenby_Heathcote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky lost a bet to Brock and is made to go a series of blind dates in Brocks place. Steve is set up on a blind date with Brock and falls for Bucky instead. Also includes misunderstandings, sex, fluff, air hockey, fist fights, stick figure drawings and Bucky's adorable niece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bets, Blind Dates and other Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stucky Big Bang 2016. The BIGGEST thanks goes to my beta AgentCoop, for guiding me and my shifting tenses through this endeavour! 
> 
> There is art work that goes with this by the wonderful euseevius
> 
> http://euseevius.tumblr.com/post/149598248486/
> 
> And a playlist!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/euseevius/playlist/1DGQ9AyKhAA8V4LYkQ9QXx
> 
> I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Comments welcome

Fucking Brock. Bucky would swear that game was crooked. There's no way he should have lost air hockey against his asinine colleague. Brock may be bigger with a longer reach, but Bucky had the reflexes of a cat, he's always been told so. He's the top of their league, for fucks sake! But no. Bucky’s puck bounced off the back wall of the court but didn't trigger the counter on the machine. It didn't count and Brock won on points and now Bucky was waiting in the Commandos Bar and Grill for some guy named Evan who was expecting to go on a date with Brock. Worse than losing to Brock was the fact that he then had to lie to this guy. And not just this guy, but every guy that Brock was getting set up with – for the next 3 months. And there seemed to be a new guy every week. After the third blind date, Bucky realised that somebody was actually setting Brock up with blind dates on a regular basis. Why, he didn’t know, but he did know his colleague. Brock was not the go-on-a-date-and-sit-around-making-small-talk type. He's the one-night-stand, bang-against-the-bathroom-door-of-a-club type. Which is why he had been grinding his hips rather gleefully at the conclusion of the game that bestowed his future dates onto Bucky. But there was a catch. These guys had to think they were still going on a date with Brock (because whoever was doing all of the setting up seemed to be insistent on checking in, to make sure that Brock wasn’t just ditching them). So worse than losing to Brock, Bucky now had to pretend to _be_ –

“Brock?”

Bucky turned, reminding himself to smile. It wasn’t this guy’s fault he was here. A very tall blond in a blue jacket and tight white tee was the only one facing him with a quizzical look. It was a look Bucky was getting more familiar with each blind date he went on.  
  
“Evan?” The guy nodded, giving Bucky a once over with his eyes. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, slipping his left hand into his jacket pocket and waved his right in the direction of the restaurant.  
  
“I guess we better get a table.”

……………………………………………………….

Bucky locked his door behind him, dropped his keys on the table by the door, shrugged out of his jacket and wandered straight over to the living room and crumpled onto the couch. Fucking Brock. How much bloody longer did he have to keep this up for? His phone beeped and he rolled over enough to reach into his jeans pocket and pull it out. One message from his sister Becca. Impeccable timing as always.

_How was the date?_

Bucky tapped back – _not mine._

_:P you know what I mean._

_It was a date. It wasn’t my date. I hate this shit._

Bucky turned his phone over so he didn’t have to look at the screen, and rubbed his fingers absentmindedly over the scar on the knuckles of his left hand. The inevitable message beep forced him to look at his phone again.

_So you didn’t like the guy?_

Bucky snorted. Becca was always having a go at him about getting out there and dating. Bucky was happy in his life, thank you very much, it didn’t mean anything that he hadn’t dated of his own accord in months. He had friends, he had work, he went out drinking, he played his teammates in an air hockey social tournament, and then he came home and drew stick figures for his niece (it was as far as his art skills could get him, but Chloe loved them).

But of course Becca didn’t agree that that was enough.

_Not my type_ \- Bucky answered simply. He didn’t really want to get into it again with his sister. She had the same stubborn streak he did. Evan was an ok guy and all, but there was something that Bucky didn’t gel with. He was tall, a bit taller than Bucky, and broad, like he spent several days a week in the gym, which had been confirmed by their conversation. The guy did Spartan Races and mud runs, ffs. Bucky spent every day with big fit guys (working security had a physical requirement, and everyone who worked in the Stark Building had to meet the image of the company). But Bucky never really fancied buff, boss-in-the-bedroom type guys. He found it became too much of a competition, Bucky’s macho side would kick in and even if the sex was good, Bucky never felt satisfied – his competitive nature and romantic nature were far too much at odds to date anyone like himself. So he let Evan down gently and was pretty sure the guy had taken the hint and wouldn’t be expecting another date. Becca however did not let up.

_Whose type is he then?_

_Brock’s._ Bucky typed back then left his phone on the arm of the couch and dragged himself into the shower, ignoring the text he heard ding from Becca.

There would just be another fucking date again next week.

………………………………………………………………..

“Would you gentlemen care to see the dessert menu?” The waiter asked as he stacked their plates up his arm. Bucky looked at his date who shrugged.

‘Come back in a minute.” Luke’s deep voice rumbled. As the waiter left, Luke leant back in his seat with a confidant gaze that was almost a challenge and said “So,”

“So?” Bucky echoed, eyebrow raised in retaliation.

“This looks like the end of our date. What do you want to do now?”

Bucky snorted, “What are you after? A goodnight kiss and the promise I’ll call you?”

Luke laughed, “I think we’ve established that neither of us really want a second date.”

Bucky nodded. He’d relaxed considerably earlier in the night when Luke had stated outright that he had no desire for anything serious.

“But I wouldn’t say no to a goodnight blowjob.”

The look on his face was decidedly hungry for something not on the restaurant menu. Bucky smirked back and cast his eyes over his date, not for the first time that evening. Luke was an attractive tall black man with a smooth head whose muscles were more sinewy than pronounced, and his wide smile made Bucky want to get a blowjob from _him._ Bucky hadn’t been with a guy in a while, and looking at Luke, he was tempted. Luke seemed to know.

“I’ve got a roommate, want to take me home?”

What the hell, Bucky thought.

“You get the cheque, I’ll get a cab.”

……………………………………………………..

Bucky lay in his bed, still awake and frowning. Luke had left half an hour earlier, with a grin on his face and a strut in his step. Bucky grimaced and rubbed the ache out of his jaw, feeling not as satisfied as he’d like to be and tried not to fall into the familiar post-sex downer that he usually felt after casual sex. Luke was bigger than Bucky, and pushier, and while Bucky enjoyed the _thought_ of athletic sex, the reality was never quite to the same mark. This was always how it seemed to go, and Bucky lay there wondering if it was ever going to change. He didn’t want every sexual encounter to end with scuffed knees, clenched fists and bruises. Sometimes Bucky just wanted to fucking cuddle, to have a guy just hold him, not hold him down. He rolled over the side of the bed to where his pants were on the floor, fished out his phone and texted his sister.

_U up?_

Her reply came within a minute.

_Yep. You’re up late. Date go well?_ She sent him a smiley face with a raised eyebrow. Bucky hated her emoji’s and Becca knew it.

_Chloe gotten over her cold?_

_Chloes fine. HOW WAS YOUR DATE._

Bucky rolled his eyes. He knew he couldn’t delay Becca once she wanted to know something. He typed and deleted a couple of times and eventually just sent –

_Was ok._

_Just ok? Come on big bro, you know I like you to check in with me right after. Did you stay over?_

Even though Becca was all for Bucky getting out and dating, they had a system; when either of them had a date, they checked in with each other when leaving the restaurant or cinema or wherever, in case they needed an out. Luke’s hands had been all over Bucky’s ass as soon as they’d left and Bucky had been too distracted to send a message off.

_He did._

Becca sent more eyebrow smiley faces, a whole fucking line of them this time.

_Good time?_

Bucky harrumphed, deciding how much he wanted to tell his sister. They were never shy about details with each other since the day Bucky had been there to witness his sister giving birth, so he figured he’d just tell her the truth.

_Not so much. Fooled around. Got pushy. Competitive._

_Come on!! Sex is a competition where everyone wins!!_

Bucky lay there, still partially hanging off the bed, head propped up by one arm and thought about that for a while. After a couple of minutes depressing himself, he rolled back onto the bed fully sending out one last message to his sister.

_Then why does it feel like I lost?_

……………………………………………………

That week Bucky hadn’t felt very social. His conversation with Becca after his date with Luke had hit too close to home with Bucky’s personal issues try as he might to deny having any at all. He wasn’t meeting the types of guys he liked, hell, he’d never met the types of guys he liked, a notion that had him feeling like he was chasing a fucking unicorn. Thursday came around and Bucky couldn’t avoid socialising with his work crew much more. Thursday was the night of their continuing air hockey tournament, which Bucky was at the top of, a position he would never relinquish, especially after losing the Ultimate Bet Round to Brock and ending up in this mess.

They left their uniform jackets in the staff locker room (Mr Stark didn’t like his employee’s wearing their Stark insignia out socialising for fear of bad press), and Bucky exited the men’s bathroom to meet them, leather jacket already on. He’d long since forgone being in the locker room with the crew since Rollins gave him shit for his arm scars during one of his first months.

The Bunker was a sports bar with a WWII theme only two blocks down from their Stark building, and with its assortment of dark beers (Brock was a pretentious git) and air hockey tables (Bucky’s enthusiasm for the game had infected the crew) it had quickly become their preferred spot. By the time they’d gotten to the doors their bravado and shit stirring had already decided the wager for the week, and each with a beer in hand they made their way down the back to the tables. The air hockey tables were nestled in the lower bar—it looked like it had once been a sunken dance floor, but fit 2 hockey tables with a pool table in the corner on the left. Bucky reckoned the blue table was the better table to play on: better lighting, definitively level and everyone could get seats around it to watch and cheer, but Brock had some perverse preference for the black table, which was an older table with a few more knocks in the outer frame. You could only comfortable get spectators on one side. Mitch Dawson pulled up the tournament spreadsheet on his phone and announced Bucky and Rollins on the blue table with Brock and Mitch facing off on the black, leaving Jay to buy the first round of food.

Several hours, baskets of wings and fries, and game rounds later, Bucky was well relaxed and into a face-off against Dawson. Dawson had the reach to be a nuisance but Bucky had the reflexes, honed during months of rehabilitation at the VA gym (not that he’d let that slip to the work crew), and Bucky was feeling good. Even if he lost this game, however unlikely, he was still points ahead in the overall tournament, with Brock trailing behind in second place. Brock, not being pleased by any of this, turned to his usual tactic of trash talk and distraction.

“So, Bucky, how was my date last Friday? You’ve been quiet this week, did you not like the guy? ”

Bucky smacked Dawson’s offensive down the sideboards. There was always something in the way Brock spoke about Bucky’s dates that Bucky figured would sound homophobic if not for the fact that Brock was into dudes as well. Rollins and Jay, now well lubricated with alcohol, jeered from their bar stools. _“Yeah, how was your date!?” “Brock’s date! Brock’s date!”._ Being closer to Brock than Bucky, they had taken as much delight in Bucky’s defeat and subsequent dating drama as Brock himself did.   
Bucky’s eyes watched the pucks dance from the back of the blue table down into his field of reach, and seeing Dawson’s telegraph his build up, Bucky snuck his paddle in and punched the puck from Dawson’s grasp. It clattered into the goal, the counter ticking up and buzzing. A round of groans emanated from the cheap seats as Bucky straightened and offered his hand out.

“I think that’s the game.”

Dawson screwed up his face and shook Bucky’s hand.

“You’re just too damn fast, man. Brock, you’re up. Final game.”

Brock, not one to waste a drop, sculled back the remnants of his beer before making a big song and dance of rolling out his shoulders and stretching his neck. It was something that intimidated guys who didn’t know him, but Bucky just ignored it. Bucky planted his feet, leaned over the table and right before Dawson dropped the puck into play, Bucky replied,

“I don’t know why you don’t just go on the dates yourself, they’re all big meatheads like you.”

Brock fumbled at the distraction, frowning like he couldn’t tell if Bucky had just insulted him or not, and Bucky used it to his advantage to flick the puck into the goal sensor and claim the first point of the game. Lining up again, Brock sneered and spat back,

“Well, Nick’s got your next date all lined up for tomorrow. Some artsy fucker called Steve. Dress pretty will ya? It’s my name you’re wearing for him.”

Bucky growled at the reminder as they fought over possession of the puck only to have Brock power slam it into the backboards of the goal for his first point. He whooped to the cheers of the guys behind them as Bucky retrieved the puck and called his attention back.

“Shut up and nut up Brock. I’m going to destroy you.”

……………………………………………………

Bucky was a little late in getting to the bar—it had been impossible to get a taxi due to some big event in town. He walked into the bar to find the “artsy” Steve that Brock had been set up with tonight. Through the conversation Bucky suddenly heard behind him _“Push off you pipsqueak, no one asked you!”._ Over by the bar a scene was being created between an aggressive looking man with a goatee, a smaller blond man with glasses and a lot of gumption, and an uncomfortable looking woman caught right next to them. The blond was fuming at the “pipsqueak” remark, but stood his ground with righteous indignation.

“When a lady says she’s not interested, it means you leave, not make a grab at her. Did your mother not teach you any manners?”

The feisty blond held himself with such surety, Bucky couldn’t help but be impressed. The man with the goatee was not impressed and swore back, leaning over the shorter man in an obvious attempt to look menacing but crowding the unfortunate woman against the bar. Bucky’s instinct kicked in, and seeing that the blond had the main threat addressed, Bucky went for the secondary concern: to extract the woman from the proximity of possible harm. Bucky gently nudged another patron out of the way, as well as moving a bar stool, and reached for the woman, silently indicating a way out for her. She scrambled over her own stool with care not to come in contact with the goateed man, and Bucky used his arms to create a barrier between her and them in case he turned around and saw her leaving. When they were several steps away from the bar Bucky addressed the woman in a quiet but clear voice.

“Ma’am, I work security. Do you want to leave?”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and nodded quickly.

“Do you have your jacket? Handbag?”

“Yes.” Her voice waivered, glancing briefly over her shoulder. Bucky redirected her attention, ushering her further away from the bar where the two men were still facing off.

“Angie!” Another woman came through the crowd, “Sorry, I was in the restroom!”

“Can we just get out of here?” the first woman asked quickly and Bucky escorted both ladies out the door. Luck was with them as a taxi pulled up outside and they ran to grab it. Seeing the car safely leave, Bucky returned inside to hear the blond man say,

“So are you going to act like a man and move on or act like a creep and keep pushing it?”

The goatee bristled at the venom the blond put behind the word “creep”. He looked around, only just now realising the woman he’d been harassing was gone, sneered in defeat and stalked off out the door, swearing. The other man made to follow but stopped when he saw Bucky. The mop of his fringe had fallen over the front of his glasses, slightly softening the determined look on his face. Bucky was struck with the random impulse to reach out and brush the hair back off the man’s glasses.

“She’s safe?”

Bucky nodded. “She and a friend caught a taxi, I saw it leave myself. He can’t follow them.”

The blond man relaxed and nodded his approval. “Good move on getting her out without him seeing.”

“Looked like you had him under control, she was the next concern.”

The man's shoulders shuffled in surprise, a small smile flickering across his face. Bucky really wanted to know more about this guy.

“Uh, thanks.” He said before deliberating and finally extending his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

Hearing the name, Bucky was instantly reminded of why he was there.

“Wait – Steve? – you’re not by any chance Nick’s friend? Here on a blind date?” Bucky trailed off a bit, hoping he wasn’t making a fool of himself, knowing that Steve was a common name.

“Uh, I am. How – are you Br-ock?” Steve stalled on the name.

“Buck.” Bucky jumped in. “Or Bucky if you prefer.” He knew he should stick to the agreement of being Brock for the evening, but the last thing he wanted right now was for the gorgeous blond in front of him to call him by any other name.

“Bucky. I like it.”

They shook hands and Bucky was acutely aware of how Steve’s long slender fingers fit snuggly into him palm, and thought he must be grinning like an idiot when Steve asked,

“Want to grab a table?”

“Hell, yes.”

………………………….

The date was the best one Bucky had ever been on. Steve was not only feisty and gorgeous, but also turned out to be a sarcastic little shit and had Bucky in stitches with his dry commentary. He was indeed “artsy”, with a fine arts degree turned graphic design business run with a college friend.

“I’ve always thought,” Bucky started, picking at the garnish on the edge of his empty plate, “that anyone who starts their own business is pretty fucking brave. I don’t know that I could make that kind of leap.”

“Brave?” Steve countered, “This coming from a man who literally fought for our country?”

Bucky shrugged. “The army’s not that hard as long as you can follow orders and stay on your feet.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, I have asthma and issues with authority. Which do you think would have kept me back more?”

Bucky's eyes flickered over him. Despite Steve’s smaller stature, he had spirit that far surpassed any constraint of physical size, something that Bucky was sure he'd never underestimate.

“I dunno,” he drawled, “I reckon you could keep going for ages.”

“Buuuck,” Steve draw out his name, “that almost sounded like…”

“Like…?” Bucky prompted.

“That almost sounded like flirting.”

“Almost? Almost! Pal, if you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all night.”

Steve scoffed. “Trying is right. I think you need to try harder.”

“Steve.”

“Buck.”

“That almost sounded like…”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Like…?” he played along.

“A suggestion.”

Steve laughed. “Maybe.” He drank the last of his glass. “Almost.” He said, putting a little bit of weight behind the word, his shoulders coming up around his ears.

Bucky took that as a hint. If Steve didn’t want anything more that night, then Bucky was happy not to push him. After last week’s disappointment with Luke, Bucky was good to take his time if Steve wanted to. He sat back in his seat, hoping to reassure his date.

“That’s cool. You know, Steve, tonight has been the best night I’ve had in a damn long time. Do you, uh, think I’d have a chance of seeing you again some time? Your call.”

Bucky tried to make himself sound calm and cool, but his heart was right in his throat. He’d forgotten – or possibly never known – the feeling of really _clicking_ with someone and he hoped like hell the feeling was mutual.

Steve relaxed and smiled. “Yeah I think you’ve got a chance.” He said with a playful wink.

They split the cheque (after hitting an impasse on not letting the other pay), swapped phone numbers and wove their way through the bar towards the exit. Bucky was too busy besottedly looking at his date to notice the body step in front of him until they collided.

He looked up. It was Brock. _What the fuck was Brock doing here!?_ Bucky was filled with dread that his colleague was about to ruin his best date.

“Watch where you’re going.” Steve chided, and when Brock looked down at Steve, Bucky could see that he’d been out drinking already, which Bucky knew only made him more obnoxious.

“Put a fucking muzzle on your twink.” Brock spat out, and Steve was already cutting in before Bucky could process a response.

“I’d say take a flashlight with you when you go to get your head out of your ass, but you might need it more for locating that small thing you call your dick.”

Bucky choked back a laugh as Brock just stood there, too inebriated to realise entirely what had just been said to him, when Steve dragged Bucky out of there by the hand. Exiting onto the street, Bucky let loose his laughter. He knew he’d be living off of that high for at least a week. He looked at Steve, who was puffed up again in the same righteous indignation as Bucky had seen on him when he’d first walked into the restaurant that night. It was gorgeous.

“May I kiss you?”

When Steve nodded after a moment, Bucky cupped his face and pulled him in to press their lips together. Steve tasted of beer and salt and a hint of the herbs that had been on their food and it was the best thing Bucky had ever tasted. Breaking apart, Bucky met his eyes, hands still lingering on Steve’s jaw.

“That was one of the hottest things I’ve heard in my life. If we weren’t on the street, I’d get down on my knee and offer to suck you off right now.”

Steve’s eyes widened at that, his lips damp from the kiss and cheeks a little flushed. Pulling away slightly he reached his fingers up to touch Bucky’s lips. Bucky let his tongue brush the top of Steve’s fingers and Steve gulped.

“You mean that?”

Bucky nodded and let his hands fall from Steve’s face to give him the space and time to make his own decision. Steve looked around then back up at him.

“My place is just down a couple of blocks.”

“Lead the way.”

Steve pushed him into the warm spring night.

………………………

The door latch clicked behind them, and Steve paused awkwardly.

“So, this is my place.”

Bucky glanced around at the tidy small studio, not really playing attention to the numerous pieces of artwork on the walls and the big fluffy blankets on the couch. There was only one thing in the apartment that interested him and that was the man to whom it all belonged.

“You said you had something in mind?”

“Yes I did.” Bucky said decisively, stepping towards Steve. He reached out to cup Steve’s face again, pausing a moment, and on getting no refusal, kissed Steve deeply and hungrily, all politeness going out the window in favour of delight and desire. Steve’s lips, tongue and hands met him with as much enthusiasm and they fell back against the door, as Bucky licked into Steve’s mouth, his tongue searching and dancing with Steve’s own.

Steve pushed him back panting, “Isn’t there something else you could be doing with that tongue?”

Bucky smiled, crouching to nuzzle into Steve’s neck, nibbling at his ear, his hands finding their way to Steve’s waist.

“Are you always this pushy?” he asked fondly amid Steve’s gasps.

“Only when I’ve been promised a blowjob.”

This time Bucky laughed and pulled away, gripping Steve’s blue sweater, the one that made the colour of his eyes pop, and pulled it up over Steve’s head. Steve’s shirt hiked up with it, and Bucky used the momentum to reach under the shirt and singlet to touch Steve’s torso. His hands ran over Steve’s ribs and smooth skin, and Bucky knelt down to let his mouth explore the same paths. Steve gasped as Bucky’s tongue met the skin of his chest and trailed down his abdomen, licking and lapping his way to just above the belt buckle. Bucky traced over Steve’s right hip where a greyscale cityscape poked up above the line of his jeans, the tattoo curling around the side of his hip and disappearing under the back of his shirt. Steve’s hands pulled at the shoulders of Bucky’s leather jacket, and Bucky released his hold to shuck his jacket to the floor.

Bucky ran his hands up Steve’s thighs to the top of his jeans, unbuckled his belt, releasing the zipper and tugged down. Steve’s skinny jeans had just enough give to let Bucky get them down his legs without toppling them both. Steve’s hands both curled into Bucky’s hair twirling strands in his fingers, like Bucky had seen him twirling his fork at dinner.

Bucky gently pulled Steve’s dick, pink and firm from his boxer briefs, caressing with his right hand as he took in the sight of it. Steve grunted in frustration, pulling at Bucky’s hair and Bucky chuckled and leant in. He lapped at the head, licked up the underside and swallowed his length in a smooth motion, using his hands to hold Steve against the door as Steve jerked with a gasp, swearing. Bucky’s tongue lapped and flickered around Steve’s dick in his mouth, alternating between fast flicks and slow sucks from base to tip, eliciting a string of curses from Steve above him.

_“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck!”_

Bucky smiled and kept going, breathing easily through his nose, drawing the actions out and delighting in the response he was getting. That was Bucky’s favourite thing, hearing the man come apart beneath his tongue. Bucky had to slow down momentarily, to adjust his stance, trying to relieve some of the pressure of his own dick straining against his jeans.

Steve’s twisting fingers pull at Bucky’s hair, small spark of pain tingling Bucky’s scalp causing him to moan, the vibration in his throat travelling down Steve’s dick. _“Fuck!”_

Steve’s legs start shaking and above him Bucky could hear Steve panting “I’m gonna…. I’m gonna…”, bunching his fingers. Bucky pushed forward instead, hollowing out his cheeks, holding Steve’s hips steady as Steve came down his throat, softly gasping _“oh,”_ , fingers tight in Bucky’s hair, his body shaking through his orgasm.

Bucky released him slowly, stopping to kiss softly across his abdomen and hold him up by the hips. Steve collapsed gently forward until he was curled over, Bucky’s head cradled to him. They stayed there a time, Bucky breathing hot against Steve’s skin and Steve panting into Bucky’s hair. Steve breathed in gulps until his breath steadied, and stood up muttering _“Fuck.”,_ pulling Bucky’s head back to look at him in the eye. Steve’s glasses were skewed on his face, looking dazed and Bucky realised he must look a bit debauched as well. Steve mutters _“fuck,”_ again and laughed lightly.

“Thanks for that.”

Bucky stood awkwardly, took Steve’s face in his hands and kissed him again.

“Mmm, you’re welcome.” He said with a chuckle.

Steve’s hands explored up over the front of Bucky’s t shirt, feeling through to the muscles on his torso, and down over the fabric of his jeans, grazing his hard-on. Bucky hissed at the contact, and Steve pulled at the hem of Bucky’s t shirt.

“I want to see more.” Steve splayed his hands over the taut skin of Bucky’s abdomen, brushing through the trail of hair there.

They found their way to the bed room, slowly stripping and exploring each new patch of skin exposed, Steve touching with his fingers every muscle on Bucky and Bucky kissing all the bits of Steve he gained access to. As Steve shed his clothing, Bucky got a better look at the cityscape on his hip, discovering also a green dragon flying in a circle around a shield on Steve’s left shoulder blade and a small cluster of stars like fireworks on the inside of his elbow. Bucky fell back to sit on the bed and Steve straddled him, pushing him flat to trace over his muscles with his fingers, hands running up and down the length of Bucky’s body. Bucky realised that somewhere he had lost his t shirt without much thought to exposing his arm, but Steve made no mention of his scars, but ran his hands over them with the same caress as on every other part of him, and Bucky felt safe.

Bucky moaned when Steve found the sensitive grooves at his hips and more so when those same beautiful fingers stroked over his cock, massaged his balls and explored further back to his ass. Bucky was in heaven, and anything Steve wanted to do to him Bucky would let him and Bucky told him so. Stopping only long enough to get some lube and a condom out of the bedside drawer, Steve’s fingers returned to their ministrations of Bucky’s ass cleft, now slick and inviting, and Bucky moaned as a slender finger slipped inside him. The finger pushed in and explored, stroking and teasing the surrounding muscle and Bucky closed his eyes and let himself just be pushed around. One finger was quickly followed by two, Bucky bearing down as the opened him up wider and Steve’s other hand roughly stroked up his dick, which was leaking and aching at the touch.

Soon the fingers were pulled from his body and Bucky opened his eyes to Steve over him, and Bucky kissed him, ready for his dick, his fingers, his tongue, _anything_ to enter him again. But Steve didn’t put the condom on himself, but instead rolled it out over Bucky, and after fingering himself open, straddled Bucky again, slicking him up with more lube and sliding slowly down Bucky’s length. He was tight and wet around Bucky’s dick and Bucky trembled with the sensation. Bucky held Steve on his sides, helping take his weight while Steve’s body eased open and he lowered himself down. His head was tilted back to the ceiling and his chest was flushed—delicate ribs heaving with each breath. Steve laid out bare like that was a sight to behold and Bucky was entranced. Steve’s legs were splayed to ease the entry of Bucky into his body, his dick still soft after the blowjob at the door.

Bucky sat up gingerly, not wanting to rock Steve before he was ready, but wanting to get their bodies closer. Propped up by a pillow, Bucky holds Steve to him as he began to move, rocking and grinding together. Steve gripped his hands into Bucky’s hair again, Bucky’s face pressed to his chest and Bucky kissed softly at the tender pale skin, Steve gasped and rocked hard into Bucky’s hips. The closeness warmed Bucky as much as the sensation of his dick riding inside Steve, and Bucky felt his orgasm building and rocked up as Steve bore down harder, and again and again and suddenly he was spilling inside Steve with a moan.

Steve lifted himself off Bucky, threw the condom off the side of the bed and collapsed down onto Bucky’s chest. They lay there like that, limp and panting, and fell asleep that way, still holding each other close.

……………………………………………………….

The beginning of the next work week Bucky was still buzzing from his date. They’d parted with a kiss and a promise to text each other, and there had been nothing awkward or final in it. Bucky had to make it up to Becca for not checking in with her again, he was going around to see them after work that night. Bucky was straightening the name badge on his uniform when Brock came along and shoulder checked him. He hadn’t seen his co-worker since the bar, but there was nothing Brock could say to dampen Bucky’s mood. Bucky tilted his head and looked at Brock from the corner of his eye, acknowledging his presence. Brock leaned back against the desk with a sullen look on his face and crossed his arms. Glancing around to check the room, he moved towards Bucky, his voice low.

“Hey fucker. You sure that was my date you were with Friday night? I thought you said they were my type. Big and meaty.”

Bucky was pretty sure he’d used the word _meathead_ , and was about to say so when another idea struck him. Grinning, he crossed around to the other side of the desk and started rummaging around in the box of miscellaneous crap they kept underneath. Finding the item that he was looking for, Bucky kept his hand on it as he saw Rollins, Dawson and Jay making their way over. Brock was looking at him in confusion even when Bucky returned to his side of the desk and laid the flashlight in Brock’s hand in front of the other guys.

“You might need that.” Bucky said simply, and waited while the look of confusion on Brock’s face turned to recognition and then to fury as he remembered what Bucky’s date had said to him the other night.

“You –“ Brock’s answer was cut off by the elevator opening, and they all turned and greeted their supervisor.

………………………………………………………………………

Becca opened the door, her hair in a frizz.

“Sorry, had the hairdryer on.”

Bucky kissed her cheek as he entered her townhouse.

“Yeah, you look terrible, go finish your hair.” He reached to get his hand in a ruffle it but Becca was way too quick and shoved his hand away.

“Get lost big bro, go hug your niece, she’s been waiting for you all day.”

Bucky stepped into the familiar surroundings, Becca’s home felt just as much home to him as his own apartment. He paced deliberately, with his hands behind his back, looking around, speaking loudly.

“Chloe! Hug for a Chloe! Is there a Chloe in here?”

A mop of curly hair sprung out from around a door way accompanied by a giggle. Bucky turned away calling back to his sister.

“There’s no Chloe here, looks like my hug is going to waste. Oh well, I guess I’ll be going now!”

Little feet in little shoes splattered footsteps up the hallway with a cry and a laugh,  
“I’m _here_ , uncle Bucky!” and Bucky turned in time as a small bundle of dark curls and pink cardigan launched itself at him. He wrapped his arms around his niece, hoisting her up with a grunt and spun her around, eliciting a string of giggles. When he stopped he propped Chloe up on his hip with his right arm under her legs.

“Silly Bucky!” she laughed.

“Silly Chloe.” He smiled, butting his forehead to hers and leaned in to kiss her nose, which she then returned with a raspberry to his chin. Bucky mocked a look of shock on his face and wiped his chin with exaggeration as Chloe burst into laughter again. Bucky got a murderous look in his eye and suddenly dipped the little girl, delivering raspberry kisses all over her face and neck. Retribution exacted, Bucky deposited his niece onto the grey couch and flopped into the seat beside her.

“So what have you been doing at kindergarten this week, sweetheart?”

Chloe launched into an animated story about the girls, the slide and the Parker boys who wouldn’t let them play and Bucky listened, wrapt. He could never get enough of Chloe’s energy, watching her swing her arms up and down illustrating the story, climbing up onto her knees and falling back into her seat as she went. Eventually her story came to an end and she turned to her uncle and asked the question Bucky knew was coming, the one he’d prepared for.

“Did you bring a story for me today, Uncle Bucky?”

“Well,” he started, pausing for effect, watching Chloe’s eyes widen in anticipation, “this week I met another knight.”

“Sir Bucky!” Chloe demanded. Bucky placated her with a kiss to her forehead.

“Ok, ok, _Sir Bucky_ met another knight. Sir Bucky went to the tavern after a long week of guarding the castle, when he met a knight he had never seen before. Everyone in the tavern thought he was just a squire because he was a bit shorter than all the other knights, but Sir Bucky could see that his armour was shiny and his sword was sharp and he was as much a knight as any.”

Chloe had curled up into the crook of Bucky’s left arm, her middle two fingers in her mouth and her other hand running over the scars on Bucky’s arm, a little motion that had become a habit long ago.

“So,” Bucky continued, “a scoundrel was harassing a lady and this strange knight had stood up to defend her honour, but the scoundrel was having none of it. The whole room watched as the strange knight took on the scoundrel –”

Chloe pulled her fingers halfway from her mouth, “Did Sir Bucky help him?”

“Sir Bucky could see that the strange knight needed no help from him but the lady did. So Sir Bucky stepped in to take the lady away to a place of safety while the strange knight told the scoundrel to leave and never come back. The tavern cheered this new knight for his bravery and Sir Bucky bought the knight a meal and a drink and they talked of their brave deeds until dawn.” Bucky wound down his story, just in time for Becca to come in with cups of cocoa and some cookies. Chloe’s fingers flew from her mouth as she leapt up and grabbed a cookie from the plate and nearly swallowed it whole. Becca told her to sit down and gave her a small half cup of cocoa, and mouth still full, Chloe looked up and muffled,

“Marfmallows?”

“I’ll get them.” Bucky offered, letting his sister stay seated and went into the kitchen to grab the mini marshmallows from the pantry. The three of them sat snuggled up on the couch, sipping cocoa and racing each other to the last cookie, sharing other titbits about their week. This was the time the Bucky looked forward to the most, being with his baby sister and her little girl. He reached over to ruffle her curls and was met with the most adorable smile in the world, at least as far as he was concerned.

Their family moment was interrupted by a knock on the door, and they were greeted be Becca’s neighbours, a small boy with scruffy blond hair and a scab on his elbow and a pretty woman with dark hair and full lips. Darcy hugged Becca warmly.

“CJ wanted to know if Chloe can come and play. Hey Buck-man.”

Chloe greeted the boy just as warmly, pulling him by the hand through the house, causing him to nearly trip on the step.

“Come play outside with us! Uncle Bucky can be the troll under the bridge!”

Becca and Darcy burst into laughter as Bucky was dragged out to play pretend.

………………………………………..

Bucky was turning his phone over in his hand, Becca had just cancelled on their coffee meet at the last minute, and Bucky was standing offside of the coffee shop line wondering what to do. He idly flipped through his contacts and his eyes fell on _Steve Rogers_.

Was it too soon to text him? Didn't you have to wait so many days before calling? Was that even a thing anymore? Bucky wondered, but the warm feeling he got from starting at the name prompted him and he shot off a text _hello._ There was no guarantee that Steve would reply straight away or even be around to meet him for coffee, but Bucky figured he had to take a chance sometime.

His phone dinged rather quickly, surprising and delighting Bucky.

_Hi back._

_I was about to grab a coffee in town, was wondering if you'd like to join me?_ Bucky chewed the inside of his cheek waiting on the reply. Bucky had no talent for small talk via text, he just hoped he hadn’t rushed it.

_Sure. Where?_

_Coffee Agents on Douglas Ave. Just down from the old court house._

_I know the place. See you soon._

Bucky fist pumped the air, getting some strange looks from the table nearby.

Steve showed up 20 minutes later, a large black art case slung over his shoulder, his glasses tinted black after being out in the sun. Bucky stood up from his table and waved Steve over, reminding himself not to act like a total dork.

“You haven't ordered yet?”

Bucky shook his head. “I figured if you weren't that far away I’d wait until you got here.”

“Thanks, I was ready for a break.”

Steve nodded his appreciation and they got into the relatively short queue and ordered their drinks (cappuccino for Bucky, long black for Steve) and once their drinks were up, chose a table by the window to sit at.

“What do you have in the case?” Bucky asked, as he ripped open two sugar packets and dumped them onto his foam and stirred them in, idly licking the excess foam off the spoon. Steve's eyes followed the path of Bucky's spoon from his cup to his mouth, before realising that Bucky had asked him a question. Steve blinked a few times before talking a sip of his coffee. He cleared his throat.

“I was sketching in the park. I like to still do some art that's not work related, you know?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “What do you like to draw?”

“People mostly. I did cityscapes in college because I didn’t like asking people if I could draw them, but I’ve found people are always more interesting, so I sit in the park and draw whoever I see. Trying to capture them before they walk past you is always a fun challenge, and everyone’s different, you know? Like the way they move, or just hold themselves, umm…” Steve trailed off, looking a bit awkward for rambling. Bucky didn’t mind, Steve lit up when he talked about his drawings and waved his hands around as he spoke and Bucky wanted to know more.

“Go on. I’d love to see some; I mean if you want to share.”

Steve smiled, pausing for a bit, then leant down to rummage around in his art case. He pulled out a black visual diary and opened it halfway.

“You see, like, these people are on their phones, but it’s different if they’re looking down which hunches their shoulders over, but this guy,” Steve points to the opposite page where a drawing, although obviously hastily rendered, still has enough detail to perfectly capture a man in a suit holding something up to his face, “is talking on his phone, so he’s upright.” Turning the page, Steve waved his hand over a few more pictures, this time of women. “And people bend their bodies differently to compensate for the weight if they’ve got a handbag on their shoulder, which is different to if they’ve got like, a messenger bag or backpack, which is different again if they’re carrying shopping in both arms.” He continued. Bucky was amazed by the amount of detail that existed in what was sometimes only half a dozen lines before the image petered out, but each one described person, so individually different from the rest. Bucky was impressed.

“These are amazing. You’re a really great drawer.” Bucky couldn’t help but say, wishing he could find something more eloquent to describe what he was seeing. Steve smirked and took a mouthful of coffee.

“5 years at art school, I’d fucking hope so.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Well fine, if you don’t want to take a compliment.” He acted offended and playfully sulked over his coffee cup. “I was going to offer to pose for you, but now I’m not so sure.”

Steve snorted. “You do realise that most times when someone poses for an artist, they’re nude? Were you planning on stripping down for me in the middle of a coffee shop?”

Bucky choked on his mouthful of cappuccino. He cleared his throat and met Steve’s eye and returned his smirk. “Well if that’s what you’d prefer…” and started unbuttoning the top of his shirt. Steve threw his head back and laughed. To Bucky’s ears it was a glorious sound.

“Fine. Sit still and I’ll draw you.”

“Shirt on or off?” Bucky teased.

Steve laughed again. “You can keep your clothes on. This time.” His words were heavy with suggestion and Bucky’s mind was flooded with the idea of lying on a bed, naked and exposed as Steve drew him, and all Bucky’s brain could think was _hell yes_. He blinked a couple of times, sat back in his chair and draped an arm over the back, trying to act cool or at the very least, not flustered. He flicked his hair out of his eyes dramatically.

“Ok, Stevie. Draw me –“

_“If you fucking say anything about French girls I will leave and never speak to you again.”_ Steve cut in, practically growling out the warning. Bucky pressed his lips tight, swallowing the rest of his sentence. Steve continued to glare at him for a moment, making sure Bucky wasn’t going to say it, then flipped to a blank page in his visual diary and pulled a pencil from his case.

He sat the book half on his lap, half leaning on the table, steadying the page before bring the pencil up. His eyes flicked up to Bucky, and Bucky at once felt like Steve was both looking at him and looking beyond him, a sensation he’d never felt before. He wanted to shuffle in his seat, unfamiliar with being watched so intently, but he refrained from moving and messing with his pose. Instead he watched Steve’s hands. The long slender fingers curled around the pencil, moving it around with such ease it looked like it was a part of his hand. They tapped up and down the page, spacing out proportion, rubbed away shadows and wiped his fringe from his eyes, these same fingers that only the previous week has gripped Bucky’s hair so tightly. Bucky was entranced, watching Steve slowly turn him into art.

……………………………………………………………………..

Bucky’s eyes flicked around the room, as he wondered how long you had to stay on a date before leaving didn’t become rude. There wasn’t anything wrong with the guy across the table from him (as far as he could tell) just a bit chatty and self-interested, Bucky just really didn’t want to be here. The restaurant was ok, nothing to write home about, food on the menu sounded ok, decor plain, and music cheesy. He didn’t choose it either, but it was across town, so less chance of someone he knew seeing him and giving him grief about being on a date.

"Brock? Did you want a beer? Brock?” His date tried to get his attention. Bucky grimaced at the name, then nodded. Something to drink meant he didn’t have to talk about himself. He watched the waitress as she wandered back to the bar to get their drinks, when a man at the bar caught his attention. The man hadn’t seen him, deep in conversation with someone next to him. Over the next few minutes, Bucky’s eyes flickered between the menu in his hands and the man at the bar while his date explained something about craft beers in Germany. Eventually his date, (Matt? Monty? No it was Matt,) looked over his shoulder, and grunted in disgust.

"Brock, Brock!” Finally getting his attention, Matt got up. "Nick said you had issues, but I don't have to put up with a wandering eye. You seemed ok when we were at the bar, but I guess not. Geez we haven’t even ordered yet. You can damn well eat alone." He stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table, grabbed his jacket, making the chair scrape on the wood floor. A couple of heads turned towards the table and he swept his hand over his eyes and up into his dark hair. Matt left via the bar, and the gap left in his wake opened the view to his table. The man at the bar turned and noticed him. He returned the wave of recognition, and straightened his shirt as the guy and his friend made their way over.

"Bucky! Didn't think I'd see you this end of town, isn't your normal watering hole The Bunker?"

He shrugged at his friend and spoke. "Hey Dugan, thought I'd try something different. Is this near your new place?"

"Near work. This is Jim, comms man on my work team. This is James, but call him Bucky. We did Basic together. You here alone, Buck?"

Bucky nodded, waving his hand to let the men sit down. Dugan took over the newly vacated chair opposite and Jim dragged one over from an empty table. Bucky quickly switched Matt's water glass over to his side to hide the fact that someone else had been there before them.

"So, you were army too?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, mustered out before this one though, medical. Sadly, Dugan decided to look me up when he got out. Haven't been able to shake him since." Dugan and Jim both laughed, as the waitress came back by. She raised her eyebrows and Bucky jumped in to give his order, hoping she wasn't going to mention the change in company. Grumbling that they'd barely looked at the menu, Dugan and Jim quickly chose something and the woman left towards the kitchen.

Bucky sighed thinking of Matt’s disappointed look, and felt guilty that he was out with someone other than Steve. Matt didn’t seem like a bad guy, not exactly his type, but an ok guy. He wished him better luck next time. One day he was going to throttle Brock for making him let down so many decent guys. Bucky at least consoles himself that it could be worse for them, they could actually have been on a date with the real Brock, a fate Bucky wouldn’t wish on anyone.

……………………………………………………………………………….

Bucky breathed a sigh as he found the sign for _SHIELD GRAPHICS_ between the _Triskelion Florist_ and _Red Room Dance Studio_ where Steve said it would be. Bucky was looking forward to seeing the business that Steve co-owned, and more than that, Bucky was just looking forward to seeing Steve. Since their impromptu coffee date, Bucky had been chomping at the bit until he could take Steve out again. They’d arranged for dinner and a movie, so Bucky was meeting Steve at the end of his work day. He pushed open the door and walked inside.

The décor was minimalist but inviting, with a couple of colourful chairs in a waiting area, and there were frames of signage along one brick wall opposite a desk. A man looked up from behind the computer and greeted him.

“Yeah. Hi, I’m here to meet Steve.”

The man pushed back his chair and stood up. He was tall, slender and well dressed, his suit perfectly complimenting his dark skin. He walked over to Bucky looking him up and down, and Bucky felt suddenly like he was meeting the parents. He stood a little straighter and automatically tucked his left hand into his pocket.

“So, you’re the security guard blind date?” The man asked.

“So, you’re the college friend business partner?” Bucky took a gambit; Steve hadn’t said that anyone else worked with them. The man smiled.

“Sam Wilson.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you Barnes. _Surprised_ to see you though, I thought Steve had cancelled your date.”

“What?” Bucky hadn’t heard anything of the sort. “Why was he going to cancel?”

“No I wasn’t!” A voice cried from behind a partition, followed by a bout of coughing. Sam rolled his eyes and called back towards the partition.

“Because I damn well told him he should! His skinny ass is too sick to go anywhere but home!”

“No I’m not!” the indignant reply came, punctuated and undermined by another fit of coughing. Sam turned back to Bucky with an unimpressed look on his face and spoke quieter so his voice wouldn’t carry through the office.

“At least try and take him home, would you? It’s not a good thing when he gets sick.” Sam kept eye contact until Bucky nodded and promised he’d try, then walked over to his desk, switched off his computer and gathered a backpack.

“I’m off now Steve! Closing up! End of day! Lock up! Go home!” and left out the door muttering _“stubborn skinny ass...”_ leaving Bucky alone in the office. He found Steve behind the white partition, leaning over a drawing tablet, coughing into his sleeve.

“Thank god, I thought he’d never leave. Been babying me all day. I’m fine! Just got a bit more work to do then I’m all set for the movie! Are you –” The string of words set off another coughing bout, deeper and heavier than Bucky had heard earlier, and worried him to no end. But if Bucky had learned anything about Steve since meeting him, _“stubborn skinny ass”_ fit him to a T, and he wouldn’t like Bucky suggesting he go home any more than he liked Sam’s suggestion of it. Bucky pushed the water bottle closer and Steve took a sip between coughs.

“I’m fine.” He said defiantly and pushed himself off the chair to his feet, but his knees buckled a bit beneath him and he had to lean against the desk for support. Bucky instinctively reached to lend a hand, but Steve brushed it off, squaring both his jaw and his shoulders. Bucky could read the pride in Steve's body clear as day, and tucked his hands into his pockets so that his gesture of support, though well intentioned, wouldn't offend. He'd been around enough recovering vets to know what a man fighting to conquer his own body looked like, and knew from personal experience the desire to show no weakness. Steve sat down again in his chair, but held his spine straight, lungs convulsing as he held in a cough. He looked over at Bucky and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe we could watch a DVD at my place instead.” Steve said and Bucky beamed, glad for the compromise. He made an effort to act normal, by pretending to think it over.

“Wait a minute, you're not trying to get me alone are you? Should I be worried for my manly virtue?”

Steve scrunched up his face, and Bucky couldn't quite tell if he was laughing or coughing or just plain cringing. Steve shook his head and side-eyed him.

“There are just too many things I could say to that; I don't know which one to choose.”

Bucky came over and nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. “Well, how about you tell me all of them over that DVD, and you can figure out which one is the best.”

Steve smiled. “Ok. Just let me save this stuff.”

…………………………………….

“You didn’t have to get a taxi.” Steve protested as they made their way into his apartment building. Steve had rallied and not looked quite as bad leaving _SHIELD GRAPHICS_ as he had looked when Bucky first saw him, but the flight of stairs had him coughing again and Bucky knew he’d made the right call with not letting Steve walk the few blocks home. But Bucky shrugged it off, trying to look like it wasn’t a big deal. He didn't want to make Steve feel self-conscious, and they hadn't known each other long enough for Bucky to feel comfortable saying anything about Steve's health.

“If you think you I’m not going to take my date on a chauffeured tour of the city, then you don't know anything about me pal.” Bucky teased, which made Steve snort.

“You’re hopeless.”

Bucky shrugged, as least Steve was able to laugh at something.

Inside his apartment, Steve dumped his bag by the door and surreptitiously dug an inhaler out of his pocket. Bucky turned away and examined one of the paintings on the wall, waiting for the _whoosh_ of the inhaler to finish before speaking. The painting was a city scape that Bucky was sure he'd seen before, but in a different context.

“Is this what your tattoo is from?”

Steve looked up. “Yeah, uh, it was one of my final pieces for my senior exhibition in college.”

“It’s incredible.” He looked back to see Steve sitting on the couch, one eyebrow raised, watching Bucky. Bucky put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Well, it is. Now, what’s the choice for the movie?” He came over and sat on the couch next to Steve as Steve rattled through a short list, before deciding on _Boondock Saints_. After putting the DVD into the player and purloining some ginger ale and Doritos from Steve’s cupboard, Bucky settled in under the blanket on the couch, Steve nestling in next to him.

…………………………………………………………..

Several days later, Bucky was headed back to Steve’s after work. They’d made it through one movie, before a spirited discussion had left Steve coughing uncontrollably and Steve had sent Bucky home with his favourite movie and told him not to return until he’d watched it. Two viewings of _12 Angry Men_ later, and Bucky was returning the sentiment along with the DVD, with Bucky’s favourite movie to be given to Steve in the same fashion. On impulse, Bucky had stopped by a street vendor and bought a single large daisy (Gerbera daisy, the smiling lady said, meaning cheerfulness), hoping it might make Steve smile.

Bucky bounded up the stairs to Steve’s apartment (mentally reminding himself to make up for missing a gym session this week), and knocked on the door. He nervously tucked his hair back, but it was not quite long enough to sit behind his ear and kept falling forward, causing him to repeat the process ad finitum.

The door was answered, but not by Steve, and it took Bucky a moment to process the unexpected change of events. The woman standing before him was of a similar height and build to Steve, dark blonde hair cut to a bob resting on her shoulders, but older by about twenty years. Her blue eyes took Bucky in and he realised he’s standing there like a fool.

“Are you here to see my son?” she asked, a slight lilt in her voice. Bucky nodded.

“Yes, is Steve home?”

She smiled and called over her shoulder.

“Stephen, is this your date from the other day?”

“Umm, yeah, it is.”

Steve emerged behind her, and standing side by side, the resemblance was uncanny. Steve’s mother was beautiful is all the ways Steve was handsome, body slender and lithe, with sharp features and bright eyes. The same sort of eyes that at that moment were looking right through Bucky, the same way Steve’s had done in the café when he was drawing him. Bucky shifted nervously, tucking his left hand into his pocket by habit.

“Well it won’t do to make you stand out in the hallway, come in.” she ushered Bucky inside.

Steve nodded at him apologetically, wrapping his large cardigan around himself and made the introductions quietly, voice hoarse. “Ma, this is Bucky Barnes. Bucky, my mom, Sarah Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Bucky extended his hand, but realising it was carrying the bag with the DVD’s and the daisy, pulled his other hand from his pocket to swap over the bag, and then offer his right hand again. She shook it warmly.

“Likewise, young man. I must ask, where does the name Bucky come from?”

Bucky laughed nervously. “My dad was a big history buff so I ended up being named after one of the more obscure presidents ever, James Buchanan.” He tucked his hair back, but it immediately fell forward and he tucked it back again. “But then there were 3 other James’s with me at kindergarten, so we all ended up being called by our middle names, but Buchanan is a bit cumbersome for a five-year-old, so...” Bucky trailed off with an embarrassed shrug. He knew he was rambling.

“So you became Bucky.” She finished with a smile.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.

“So what does your father do?” Sarah inquired politely.

Bucky swallowed. Family was a tough subject for him to talk about. “He, uh, died in a car wreck with my mom 6 years ago while I was deployed. He was a payroll clerk for the council,” Bucky stated simply and looked at Steve for help, and Steve stepped in, speaking through a cough.

“Is that my DVD?”

“Yeah!” Bucky was glad for the change of subject, holding forward the bag. “And my favourite for you to watch, if you haven’t already seen it. _Shawshank Redemption_. I, uh, watched it a lot after getting home after, you know. It fit me and everything, in a weird way. So, yeah.” Bucky wanted to tell Steve how much the story of _Shawshank Redemption,_ and the idea of climbing through a river of shit to come out clean on the other side, had given him hope in the early days of his recovery, but he didn’t want to open up so openly with Steve’s mom in the room. Feeling awkward, Bucky decided on a tactical retreat. He cleared his throat and stepped backwards, bowing his head to Sarah Rogers.

“Anyway, thanks for letting me come by, but I don’t want to intrude. Nice to meet you Mrs. Rogers. Steve, I hope you’re feeling better and, umm, give me a text when you’ve seen the movie, yeah?”

“Yeah, I will. Umm, hey!” Steve called before Bucky was out the door. “What did you think of my movie?”

Bucky turned around, hand on the door knob and breathed in deeply. “Was the kid guilty or not in the end?”

Steve smirked, covering his mouth to stifle a cough with his sleeve, “You heard the evidence, you tell me.”

Bucky let out his breath in a huff. “I don’t know, that’s the problem.”

“That’s why I like it.” Steve said, and waved him off, Sarah Rogers calling out her well wishes behind them, and Bucky retreated down the stairs.

……………………………………………….

Bucky was in the south side break room of the Stark building. He’d radioed in his location and the fact that he was having his scheduled break to Brock, and pulled a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. It had been a routine day so far. Mr Stark had been out of town on business for a week, so there weren’t a lot of people coming and going beyond the usual employees. Bucky sat down on one of the old couch chairs and downed half the bottle before pulling out his phone. A notification told him he had two texts waiting to be read. One was from Becca saying _Anderson’s Bakery, Milton St West. Cake for Chloe!!!!!_ accompanied by a picture of an elaborate castle cake with pink icing. The second text was from Steve, only half an hour ago; _Did you know the Shawshank tree came down in a storm recently?_ Bucky got halfway through a reply before changing his mind and hitting the call button instead. It rang a couple of times before Steve answered.

“Hey Buck, you working?”

“On a break. What’s this about the tree?”

“Something I read on my newsfeed. The tree was uprooted in a storm.”

“Damn, I always thought I might go looking for it someday.”

“Well, you still could, it would just be a field though.” Steve teased sarcastically.

Bucky laughed. “Dick. You’re sounding better. Are you back at work?”

“Almost. Sam said he wouldn’t let me in the door until at least tomorrow, so I’m bumming around on my computer, getting a bit bored of it actually. Hey, sorry about not warning you about my mom when I said you could come over. Usually I visit her, but she decided to surprise me instead.”

“Well she sure as hell surprised me.” Bucky huffed and Steve laughed.

“Yeah, that’s not quite what I had in mind when I invited you over.”

Bucky smiled, “What did you have in mind, then?” taking a sip from the water bottle.

“Something involving a lot less clothing.”

Bucky spat out his small mouthful, groaning as he wiped down the front of his jacket. “Dammit Steve, now I’ve got water down the front of my uniform. Warn a guy next time?”

“Just take it off, what have you got on underneath?”

“A work shirt, thankfully.” Bucky said absentmindedly, mopping up the last of it with a tissue from his pocket, before sitting up. “Wait a minute. Did you just ask me what I’m wearing?”

“I do like a man in uniform.” Steve replied, equal parts sultry and sass. “I like one even better out of it.”

Bucky laughed. “Steve!”

“What? I’m bored.”

“And horny, apparently.” Bucky mused.

“I’m allowed. Go on, I’ve been sick! Humour me. Tell me what you’re wearing. And I’ll tell you what I’m imagining…”

“Ok, umm… my work uniform, like I said. Are you really doing this?”

“Mm hmmm, I’m imagining that on the floor, because I’ve shoved you onto the couch and stripped you naked…”

“You’re really fucking doing this.” Bucky muttered, the image of Steve’s fingers roughly pulling of his work uniform vivid in his mind and his dick stirred in his pants. “You do realise I’m at work right now? Anyone could walk in.”

“Then hang up. I’ll jerk off, thinking about my cock stuffed down your throat, all by myself then.”

Bucky groaned in frustration and defeat, the memory of Steve’s dick on his tongue ripe in his mind, and he shoved himself out of his chair and crossing the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Locking the fucking door. Now hurry up and tell me more.” Bucky swapped hands on his phone and palmed at his erection, now fully hard and straining against his pants, and leant back against the door.

Steve moaned a breath down the phone line and Bucky could only imagine him at home, dick in hand, “My cock is in your mouth, and I’m holding onto your hair so I can thrust…oh… your mouth is so warm and wet…”

Bucky whimpered, “Pull my hair…”

“What?”

Bucky cleared his throat, “I like it when you pull my hair.” He admits, kind of embarrassed, but thoroughly turned on and he rubbed himself through the fabric of his pants.

“I like your hair… ah, and I like your tongue, that spirally thing you did… fuck that was amazing…mmm,”

Bucky bit his lip to keep from moaning too loud, “I could fucking suck you off all night. Next time I see you I might just do that… get on my knees and suck you for hours…”

“Fuck, _fuck…_ oh yes, Bucky…”

Bucky ground the heel of his palm into his groin, rutting up into his hand, wanting more than anything to pull his dick out and go to town, but he was still lucid enough to know that he couldn’t risk getting caught with his dick out at work. But listening to Steve pant and swear through his phone was testing his resolve. He quickened his hand.

“And I’ll pull your hair when I fuck you… oh god, I want to fuck you Bucky… hold you down… _mmm fuck,”_

“Oh yes, _please,_ ” Bucky hissed, remembering clearly the feeling of Steve’s fingers inside him and imagined it was Steve’s dick instead pumping into his ass, and he knew he was done.

_“Mmm_ , Steve! I’m… ahh!”

“Me too, me too, _fuck, ohhh…. fuck!”_ Steve swore into Bucky’s ear as Bucky came, spurting into the tight confines of his boxers. Bucky groaned a mixture of pleasure and discomfort, head falling back against the door as he caught his breath again, and he could hear Steve huff and puff through the phone. Suddenly there was a crackle of static.

“BARNES. Come in. Cut your break short, we’ve got a beef between delivery drivers, service entrance. Move your ass.” Brocks voice erupted through the radio on his belt and Bucky swore as Steve laughed.

“You’re a fucking menace you know that, pal?” Bucky muttered and he could still hear Steve laughing as he hung up his phone and rushed back to work.

……………………………………………………………..

Bucky powered away at the cross-trainer, arms pumping the handles back and forth in time to the punishing music in his earbuds. He always liked the end of his workout, the burning feeling through muscles, the fire in his lungs, it meant that he’d done something worth it. The timer ticked over the last of his workout time, and the machine began to whir into a warm down cycle, and Bucky straightened, releasing the handles and looking around the gym.

He’d been going to the VA gym since he got out and had to do rehab for his arm. He knew the trainers and the counsellors, served with one or two of them, and had become friends with them during his time recuperating. It wasn’t about being macho down at the VA, it was about recovery for everyone who walked in there. They had their own stories, their own problems and they never gave you any grief for yours. That’s what Bucky liked about it, one of the few places he felt comfortable being in short sleeves, and why, despite their many invitations, he never joined Brock and the other security guards at the Fitness Centre.

Gabe Jones stopped by Bucky’s machine as he was wiping it down.

“Barnes!”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Bucky greeted him. Gabe was a handsome black man who’d lost an ear and several fingers in the same incident that had torn up Bucky’s arm.

“I thought I might have seen you at the BBQ last week.”

Bucky wiped the sweat from his face. “Ah, yeah, I had a date actually.”

Gabe hummed his approval. “Oh yeah? Good for you. How are things going with –” he cut off his inquiry as a pair of trainers wandered past. “-- them?” he finished quietly, knowing how careful Bucky was with the broadcasting of his romantic preferences. Bucky smiled, grateful for his friend’s respect. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell may have been repealed, but Bucky knew he wasn’t the only gay vet who was still cautious about being out in a military adjacent environment. But thinking of Steve, Bucky realised he didn’t mind so much.

“It’s really great. Been together nearly a couple of months.”

“Must be pretty special to get you smiling like that.”

Bucky smiled again.

“He is.”

…………………………………………….

“Brock? Are you Brock? Brock?”

Another strange bar, another strange man calling him a strange name. Bucky was very much looking forward to July.

“Over here.” He raised his bottle to flag the man down. He came through the crowd, grey shirt over skinny jeans (Steve looks better in skinny jeans, Bucky idly thought) and a tattoo up the side of his neck, and stopped in front of Bucky clutching his phone to his chest and a jacket slung over his arm.

“So, umm… oh, fuck,” the guy rambled as he guiltily looked up at Bucky. “It’s my boyfriend, ah, see, I agreed to this date because we had this massive fight, but now…” his phone buzzed in his hand and he swore again as he juggled phone and jacket. Bucky smiled, realising what the guy was trying to say, set down his bottle and tapped the guy on the arm. He looked up, attention narrowing on Bucky.

“Go get him, slugger.” Bucky called over the noise of the bar.

He mouthed _You mean it?_ and Bucky nodded. The guy jumped, and pushed his way back through the crowd, phone pressed to his ear. Bucky chuckled to himself. He was a sucker for happy endings. Leaving his nearly empty bottle where he’d put it, Bucky shrugged his way through the crowd towards the door, preferring to be anywhere but in a bar.

Back at his own apartment, Bucky swiped open his phone, found his sister’s contacts and pressed dial. Not surprisingly, the conversation soon turned to Steve.

“Chloe wants you to invite him to the party.”

“Really? You’re not just saying this so you can meet him and interrogate him?” Bucky started doodling on the drawing pad he kept by the couch.

Becca blew a raspberry through the phone. “No. Your lovely niece said, and I quote “I’ve got a new friend Jessica and Uncle Bucky’s got a new friend and they can both come on my birthday and we can all play.” So feel free to invite him. And yes, I want to meet him.”

“Ok, I’ll ask him when I call him tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you call him tonight?”

“Because he thinks I work Fridays.”

“And why do you have him believing that?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear, dropping his pen in the process. “Come on Bex, where have I been the past 2 months of Fridays? Or have you forgotten my string of blind dates?”

“Haven’t you told him about that?”

“Told him what? Oh yeah, I like dating you but I’m still dating other people because I lost a bet? That would mean telling Steve who he was really set up with. No thanks.” Bucky reached over the couch to retrieve his dropped pen and then continued.

“It’s only until July 4th. That’s when the bet ends. Then I can tell him I had a schedule change and I can take him out on Friday nights like I want to.”

“Mmm hmm.” Becca was the queen of judgemental syllables, and Bucky could easily picture the look she was giving him.

“I hate lying to him. But I don’t know how he’d take it. Hell, if someone told this to me, I don’t know how _I’d_ take it.”

“Well isn’t that an indication that you shouldn’t be keeping it from him?”

“Look Becca, just drop it please? Tell me about this girls thing you’re planning with Darcy. “

She huffed in frustration, muttering _I’m so glad I didn’t have a boy_ , then launched into the details about some spa. Bucky listened, but his hands were busy doodling out the last details of a castle on a picture for Chloe. When he hung up 20 minutes later, he got up and put it on the fridge so he wouldn’t lose it. He didn’t want to lose this one.

…………………………………………………………………

Bucky had brought Steve here to tell him this, but now they were here, he was faltering. Who knew it would be so hard to explain a stick figure picture to a guy? They were standing in the kitchen of Bucky's apartment, where Bucky had pinned the collection of stick figure drawings he was putting together for a picture for Chloe’s birthday. Bucky was overly protective of Chloe’s place in his life, especially when, more than once, a guy had laughed at him for being such a devoted uncle. Steve might be artsy, but he was also tough and sarcastic, and Bucky wasn’t sure what he would think.

“It’s my job.”

“You said you work as a security guard.” Steve supplied.

“Yeah, I am. But a 3-year-old doesn’t know what that is. She was 3 at the time. She’s turning 5 now. So her mom, my sister –“ Bucky wasn’t getting anywhere like this. He closed his eyes, took a breath and went for the tearing off a Band-Aid approach.

“My sister told my niece that I’m a knight that guards a castle where the princesses are.” Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve’s reaction, but the look on Steve’s face was still surprised and didn’t tell him anything in the positive or the negative.

“And the picture…?”

“I draw knights protecting a castle for Chloe. Clearly I’m not that good, but this is the one I’ve done for her birthday, and I was thinking of getting it as a tattoo.”

Bucky took a breath, stuck out his chin and looked at Steve defiantly. He liked the guy, sure, well, actually he liked the guy _a lot._ But his sister and niece would always come first in his life and he damn well wasn’t going to feel ashamed for loving his family, not when they’d been the one’s to get him through.

Steve’s eyebrows were still raised, surprise still etched across his face.

“You’re a softie.”

Bucky bristled. Well that was his answer, he thought. He took a step back opening the way out of the kitchen and looked away.

“Get out.” He whispered, then decided against just standing there and stalked out into the lounge, hopefully hiding his disappointment. Bucky _really_ liked Steve, but he’d be damned if he let him see how crushed he felt. He heard Steve follow him, but he didn’t hear him head to the door.

“You gave me a flower.”

Bucky spun around. “What?”

Steve wasn’t gaping anymore, and he wasn’t looking at him cruelly either, Steve was smiling at him. It wasn’t his usual smirk, the smile took up the whole of his face, hell, the whole of his _body_ , it smoothed out the prickly corners he always held up and glowed across him. He looked even more stunning than Bucky had ever seen him and Bucky had seen him come.

“You gave me that flower when I was sick. You didn’t mean it as a joke, did you? You’re actually a romantic – “

Bucky’s nostrils flared and his brow furrowed, even though Steve was smiling Bucky was still afraid he was being laughed at.

“I – I never thought big guys were the type to be romantic, they’ve only ever been brash and pushy with me, but you – “

Steve had looked down like he was talking it out to himself, but he moved closer and Bucky found himself backed up with his calves against the couch. Steve lifted his head, chin tilted right up to look Bucky in the eye, smile bright across his face.

“I’ll go if you really want me to, but I just want to say… you’re a big, romantic, gorgeous softie and I fucking adore it.”

It took the wind right out of Bucky and he sat down with a start. That was not quite what he was expecting. Now below Steve’s eye level, it was Bucky’s turn to look up. _Adore_ wasn’t a word Bucky heard much and certainly not in relation to him.

“You… what?”

Steve waved his hands around searchingly before clasping them together.

“I’ve never had someone be romantic with me without babying me, and big guys always think I can’t take it or just want to push me around, so I learned to get pushing instead. But you, you’re genuinely romantic, and I didn’t realise it until now… but I fucking adore it.” His smile was wide and Bucky was stunned.

“Do you still want me to go?” Steve asked softly, eyes pleading down at Bucky and Bucky realised that Steve had just opened up and was probably feeling as vulnerable as Bucky was right now, and all Bucky knew was fuck no, he didn’t want Steve to leave. Bucky shook his head and reached out, pulling Steve to him.

_“No”_ was all he managed to get out before their lips were crashing together. Steve wriggled, not letting his mouth leave Bucky’s, manoeuvring his body so that his legs straddled Bucky’s and Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and pulled him onto his lap. They only broke apart when Bucky tasted salt in their kiss and couldn’t tell which one of them was crying. Turns out it was both.

“I think you’re gorgeous, and I’ll fight to defend your right to be as big a romantic softie as you like.”

Bucky laughed into Steve’s chest, kissing tenderly where he knew his collar bones were through the layers of vest and shirt. Steve wriggled, but Bucky just held him in a hug and lay gentle kisses up and down Steve’s neck.

Steve curled his hands into Bucky’s hair kissing the crown of his head and mused, “If I’d known you were this much of a softie, I wouldn’t have fucked you so hard the night we met.”

Bucky choked. He’d _loved_ the way Steve had taken over that first night, he’d felt no competition whatsoever, and afterwards Steve wasn’t afraid to just lay together. It was the first time anyone had let Bucky cuddle them after sex.

“Well then, how would you have done it?” Bucky murmured into his ear. Steve leaned back extricating himself with Bucky’s hands on his hips the only anchor. He smiled suggestively and slowly got up from Bucky’s lap, taking Bucky by the hand and walking backwards towards the bedroom, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s.

This time when they made love they took their time, Steve lavishing Bucky with kisses and caresses, making sure to treat every part of Bucky with attention – from the freckle behind his right ear, along the scars on his left side, down to muscles in his abdomen, to the sensitive grooves where his glutes met his thighs, until Bucky’s body was thrumming with affection. Steve opened him up slowly and gently, massaging Bucky open from the inside with his slender artist’s fingers. Begging and gasping, Bucky pulled Steve in for kiss after kiss; moaning wordlessly, helplessly when Steve pushed inside him with his dick. Steve rocked into Bucky smoothly and gently, letting him feel every sweet slow movement and Bucky was in heaven. They rocked and panted their way to climax, Steve spilling inside Bucky, Bucky spilling into Steve’s hand, and they kissed deeply before Steve pulled out of him slowly to get a cloth and clean them both up.

Afterwards they lay together, curled in each other’s arms, and Steve traced his fingers over Bucky’s scars.

“Is this where you want your tattoo?”

Bucky looked down at his arm and nodded sleepily. “Yeah.” He whispered. Steve met his eye and smiled softly.

“I know someone who could do your tattoo for you, if you want.”

Bucky leaned in and kissed Steve slowly and deeply. When they broke apart, Bucky nuzzled his head next to Steve’s.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

…………………………………………………………………….

Inside the tattoo parlour, Bucky held his ground against Steve’s friend Natasha. The red headed woman was cool and collected on the outside but there was something sharp and strong about her. Bucky had known women like her in his unit, women who had had to be strong to make it in the army’s bro culture.

“So this is the design you’re wanting?” She asked, looking over the paper. Bucky had combined the best of the stick figure drawings he’d done for Chloe over the past couple of years into a larger scene of a castle (representing the Stark building where Bucky worked), a training area (his gym) with a jousting tournament (his air hockey competition with his workmates) and a couple of princesses riding horses with the main knight (Bucky, Becca and Chloe) in the foreground. It was large enough to cover the biggest of the scars on his upper arm, and Steve had helped give the whole picture some shading which added an incredible depth to the scene without distracting from Bucky’s original style. All in all, Bucky was very proud of it, and they’d already had a copy printed and framed to give Chloe for her birthday.

“Yeah, this is it.” Bucky nodded, his nervousness prompting him to expect Natasha to give him grief for it, but she just looked him over with a cool eye for a minute, then nodded.

“I’ll go make a transfer. Steve, why don’t you take your friend into the studio and I’ll be in in a minute.”

“This way.” Steve ushered Bucky into a clean well lit space with a shelf of inks, boxes of gloves and other supplies, with several chairs and a massage table in the centre. “Nat’s really good. She did all of mine.”

Natasha came through the door, a blue transfer sheet in her hands. “And when do I get to do the next one Steve?” she teased.

“Next month.” Bucky noticed that Steve didn’t look at Natasha when he said that. Natasha raised an eyebrow accusingly.

“And how long ago did you have time off work, sick?”

“Sam told you.” Steve glared back. Bucky made a confused hum in his throat and Steve turned to him to explain.

“Natasha refuses to tattoo me if I’ve been sick with more than a cold in the last 3 months. My system gets too sensitive for the inks otherwise.” Steve shrugs sadly, like Bucky’s seen him do every time he mentions his propensity for illness. “Hives are not a good look on me.”

“They’re not a good look on anyone.” Natasha sympathised, tapping Steve on the cheek which he swiped away in annoyance. Steve backed out of her reach and found himself a barstool to perch on in the corner out of the way. Natasha turned to Bucky and indicated for him to take a seat too.

Bucky paused for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt and folding it over the arm of the chair, then sat down, hiking his t-shirt sleeve un to the top of his shoulder. He still wasn’t used to the idea of showing his scars to someone he’d just met, but he’d wanted this tattoo idea for a while and had been mentally preparing himself for it. He settled into the chair with his left arm laid across the massage table, and Natasha leaned over to map the transfer over his major scars. Her hands were steady and didn’t linger unnecessarily, which he was grateful for. He’d only mentioned having scar tissue when making the booking, but didn’t go into detail about how much there was to cover, so he was surprised how well she handled seeing it. Bucky was surprised how well _he_ was handling have her see it too. It had been a couple of years since doctors had needed to poke and prod him and his physical therapists were always good about keeping their distance on his injured side. He’d taken a panicked swing at one or two in the early days, before he got used to his situation. Bucky breathed deeply, the way his therapists had taught him, and looked over at Steve who was looking back at him, smiling.

“Have a look at where I’ve got everything placed. I can move anything, but now’s the time to decide.” Bucky looked over the transfer, and nodded, satisfied.

“It’s fine. It’s good.”

“Ok. And you said you wanted it just in black?”

Bucky nodded again. Natasha snapped on a new pair of gloves and set up her machine and after a minute turned back.

“I just want to check before we get started. Are there any issues with nerve damage I’ll need to know about?”

Bucky let out a long breath. He’d asked his doctors the same thing when he’d first thought of getting a tattoo to cover his scars.

“Most of the areas either side of the big lines have nerve damage. There’s small pockets between them I can feel, but on the surface it’s mostly just pressure rather than anything specific. I tend to start feeling things deeper in.”

She thought over this, then came around the table with the machine in hand and pulled up a chair for herself.

“Are you ready to get started? And remember, you can tell me to stop at any time.”

“Let’s do this.”

Natasha turned the machine on and over the course of the next hour traced over the lines and filled in the shading. The constant hum and buzz became methodical and soothing, the pressure not registering as much as Bucky had expected, and he relaxed into the experience. After a while he stopped watching the machine work and instead watched Steve. Watching Steve watching him was almost a secret experience, like watching Steve draw, where he would forget everything else around him and just sitting mesmerised, leaning forward on his hands, teeth gently worrying his lower lip, the long fringe flopping forward over his eyes but in behind his glasses, and making him blink more often. Bucky knew it was mainly the artistry of the tattooing that held Steve’s attention, but he felt like he could feel Steve’s eyes trace over his scars as well. Bucky felt both beautiful and laid bare under his gaze.

“It was an IED. We’d checked the same road morning and night for two weeks, so the morning we were bugging out we thought we’d be fine. Turns out we weren’t.” Bucky said quietly. Steve’s eyes darted straight up to meet his, surprise at the confession melting into something softer. Steve pressed his lips together once or twice, like he was deciding if he should say something and Bucky didn’t want to make him feel guilty - there was never anything good to say to that, a lot of the reasons why Bucky hardly shared. But here, with Steve, he wanted to.

“It’s ok.” Bucky shook his head gently. “It is what it is. I came home. I got to see Chloe born. And I kept my arm. I was lucky.”

He glanced over the artwork, nearly fully formed over his arm, his eyes falling on the princesses, tucked in on the inner side of his arm where he could easily see them. He smiled.

“I am lucky.”

……………………………………….

“Stop touching it, it’s still healing,” Steve chastised him as they rang the doorbell of Becca’s home. It was Chloe’s birthday, and Bucky was both excited and nervous about Steve meeting the women in his life, and just as nervous and excited about Chloe and Becca meeting Steve. He took his hand off his sleeve, careful not to jostled the cake box and reached to rap his knuckles on the doorframe, just in time for the door to burst open.

“Buck-man! And he brought the cake!” Darcy announced loudly, stepping aside for the two of them to enter.

“I said I had it.” Bucky told her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Darcy, this is Steve. Steve, Darcy. She’s Becca’s next door neighbour and oldest friend.” Steve was engulfed in a hug and they were ushered in to the kitchen where Becca was mixing up a large bowl of obnoxiously pink looking punch. Dropping the punch ladle, Becca snuck opened the lid of the cake box, barely giving Bucky the chance to get it sat on the bench, and squealed her delight.

“You even got the ice cream cone turrets! Just like the picture! Chloe is going to love you!”

“I should hope so, I am her favourite uncle after all. Becca, this is Steve. No interrogating. Steve, this is my little sister, Becca. Ignore anything she says.” Steve covered his laugh with hand when Becca poked her tongue out at Bucky and Bucky did it in return.

“It’s really nice of you to invite me.” Steve said, offering his hand, into which Becca dumped a pile of snack plates.

“Oh that was all Chloe. Bucky wouldn’t shut up about you so she just had to meet you. She’s with her friends in the lounge. Bucky, can you carry the punchbowl?”

They grabbed the bowl, cups and plates and followed Becca into the lounge where they were met with a mini disco – music and fairy lights and even a mirror ball hanging from the ceiling, with four small children dancing around the floor.

Bucky introduced Steve to Mark, Chloe’s dad, and Wanda, whose daughter Jessica was dancing about with Chloe and CJ.

“Uncle Bucky!” Chloe launched herself in their direction, and Bucky had to move quick to get the punchbowl down before swooping Chloe up. He hugged her tight and wished her a happy birthday, then put her back on the ground before introducing her to Steve.

“Chloe, this is my boyfriend Steve. Steve, this precious bundle of joy, is my niece Chloe.”

Steve knelt down to Chloe’s level. “It’s nice to meet you Chloe. Thank you very much for inviting me to your party. Happy Birthday.”

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

Steve and Bucky laughed. “Because Bucky told me!”

“Oh, ok! We’re dancing! Are you going to dance with us?” Steve raised his eyebrows at Bucky and Bucky saved him.

“Maybe later, sweetie, I think Jessica wants you to dance with her at the moment.”

“Ok!” Chloe gave Bucky a kiss then ran back to the dancefloor. Standing up Steve turned to Bucky.

“You’re right. She’s adorable. But for the record, I don’t dance.”

Bucky nudged him with his elbow, “That’s ok, neither do I.”

The doorbell rang again and Darcy left the room, returning with Pepper Potts and daughter Maria, who attended kindergarten with Chloe and Jessica.

“Now that everybody’s here, it’s time for musical chairs, and then…. cake!” Becca announced to the cheers of the four excited children.

……

Becca’s squeal of delight was nothing compared to Chloe’s at the reveal of the cake. The little girl was practically speechless as she was presented with a full castle of vanilla sponge, pink icing, sprinkles and ice cream cones and five white candles. She was finally encouraged to blow them out after a resounding chorus of “Happy Birthday to you” and a dozen photos and one very enthusiastic CJ practically begging to help blow them out for her. With the cake cut, and her presents unwrapped, Chloe and her friends were sat down to eat before the next round of games, allowing the adults time to grab a bite themselves.

Bucky had rolled up his sleeve to show off his tattoo that matched the framed picture he’d given Chloe (which she loved even more than the cake) and Bucky left his sleeve like that. Bucky and Steve chatted amiably with Mark, Chloe’s dad, who had planned for months to make sure his work travel schedule coincided with a break so he could be home for the party. Bucky got along well with Mark— he’d always made the effort to be there for Chloe even when he and Becca didn’t work out— and Mark in turn was glad that Bucky could be there for Chloe when he couldn’t.

“Are you surprised by the tattoo?” Bucky asked him when he caught Mark eyeing his arm.

“I’m only surprised that you didn’t get it sooner.” Mark joked. He turned to Steve. “You’re coping pretty well for being surrounded by noisy little kids. You must have younger brothers and sisters.”

“No, I’m an only child. I, um, actually used to teach kids art classes when I was in college.” Steve admitted and Bucky turned to him, eyes wide with surprise. Steve shrugged. “I got used to the energy and noise.”

….

“Were you there when Bucky got his tattoo?” Becca gave Steve a cloth to wipe the paint from his hands as he rinsed off the brushes for her in the sink. Steve’s artistic talents had gotten him roped into some impromptu face painting after lunch and Becca had scrounged enough supplies from her high school art folder that weren’t completely dead for him to use. Now there were two cats, a butterfly and a hawk in place of children, and even the parents had acquiesced to their little one’s demands to get painted too. Wanda and Pepper both opted for filigree designs up the back of their hands, while Darcy, Becca, Mark and Bucky escaped with only one cheek painted. Tony Stark, Maria’s dad and Pepper’s other half had arrived after the paints were pulled out, and much to the surprise of everyone, went for a full robotic facemask in red and yellow. Steve, being the artist, said it was his prerogative to get away paint free, until Chloe’s utter charm and adorable pleading crushed his resolve and Bucky shakily painted a red star in a blue circle on his cheek, giving up but not before nearly upending the paint tube down Steve’s shirt.

“Yes, I recommended the tattoo artist to him.”

“No, I mean, were you in the room?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I was just wondering if that was the first time he showed you his arm.”

“No. I’d seen it before.” Steve said, giving her the last of the brushes.

Bucky came in and interrupted them. “Bex, what did I say about no interrogating? Leave my boyfriend alone.” He wrapped his arm around Steve and kissed him quickly on the lips. Becca flicked the paint brushes at them, sending droplets of water in their direction. Bucky let go of Steve and grabbed a brush out of Becca’s hand and waved it at her like a fencing sword. She brandished one right back at him and in the confines of the kitchen they started a mock sword fight, with Steve practically having to step into the pantry to avoid them. Bucky used his strength and height to back Becca into a corner and pin her arms and she cried out in disgust.

“Ugh! Don’t you have something better to do? Why did you come in here in the first place?”

Bucky stepped back to release her and thought for a second. “Oh yeah, Mark is about to leave and wanted to say goodbye to you.”

Becca shoved him. “Thanks for telling me now.” and pushed past him. Bucky turned to grin at Steve who was extracting himself from the pantry.

“Is it safe to come out?” he asked sarcastically. Bucky acted shocked.

“I’ll have you know I’m a true gentleman. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you. Well, anyone except my sister. She’ll tell you I’m a troll.”

Steve snorted and pushed up on his toes to kiss Bucky. “You’re a dork, is what you are.”

Bucky blushed and shrugged. “Ok, maybe that too. Come one, let’s join the others, I need a drink.”

….

“What is this?” Tony’s face looked like it had just sucked a lemon and he inspected the glass with confusion. Darcy was calling twister instructions for Becca and Wanda and two of the girls, while everyone else was camped out on the couches.

“Punch.” Steve told him, ladling himself a glass.

“It’s ghastly. There’s nothing in it.”

“It’s a kid’s party, dear.” Pepper tutted him, sitting down. He surrendered the glass to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a kiss. “You’ll just have to go without until later.”

“I guess I will.” Tony sighed. “Anyway. So what do you do?” His attention turned to where Bucky was retying the ribbon that had come out of Chloe’s hair during her last round of twister.

“Uncle Bucky’s a knight in shining armour.” Chloe supplied helpfully, turning to smile up at her uncle.

“A knight-?”

“I’m a security guard. For Stark Industries downtown. I protect your castle.” Bucky explained, causing Tony to laugh loudly and Pepper to smile.

“Well, I can’t fault you for that! What about your friend, what does he do?”

“You can say boyfriend. Chloe knows what gay means.” Bucky corrected, Steve coming to perch on the couch arm next to him.

“I’m an artist and graphic designer.” Steve said at the same time as CJ piped up, “I don’t know what gay means.”

The adults stopped talking for a second and looked to Darcy who shrugged, her mouth full of cake, but before she could explain it, Chloe turned to CJ and announced, “Gay is when a boy loves another boy and they hug and kiss and stuff.”

“Oh.” CJ said. “So you’re gay too?” He asked up at Steve.

Steve looked up at Bucky and Bucky gave him a smile that said _It’s ok to say it._ Steve looked down at both sets little eyes looking up at him and said “Actually I’m pan. That’s when you can love either boys or girls.”

“He loves my Uncle Bucky,” Chloe declared, causing Steve to go bright red and stammer.

CJ thought about that. “I don’t think I love other boys. Can I love only girls?”

“Yes you can.” Chloe said, matter-of-factly. “You can love whoever you like. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Pepper answered her, saving Steve from having to add anything more. Satisfied with their answers and ribbon retied, CJ and Chloe ran over to the twister mat to re-join the game. Darcy went with them, leaving Steve and Bucky on the couches with Tony and Pepper.

“Which design company do you work for?” Pepper inquired, redirecting their conversation.

_“SHIELD GRAPHICS._ ” Steve said, glad to be on a less personal topic, “We’ve owned it for 5 years now.”

“Yes, I know the place. Near _Red Room Dance Studio,_ isn’t it? Maria goes to ballet there on Thursdays.”

“That’s the one.” Steve said. “Do you –“

his question was cut off by Pepper’s cell phone ringing from her purse. She apologised and looked at her message before showing it to her husband. Tony rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the couch.

“I guess we better deal with that. Sorry gents, work calls.” He stood straight and buttoned the front of his jacket, offering a hand to help Pepper to her feet. “Do you think I could get away with going to a meeting with my face like this? What the hell, why not?” and went to round up Maria from where she sat by the twister mat.

Pepper rolled her eyed in exasperation, “Oh Tony.” She offered her hand to both Bucky and Steve. “It was a pleasure, have a good evening.”

…..

After everyone else had left, Steve caught Bucky looking up at the ceiling in contemplation.

“Something got your attention?”

“Yeah, Becca’s mirror ball. She used to have one in her bedroom as a teenager, I’m trying to figure if this is the same one or if she hired it – wait! There!” Bucky suddenly pointed upwards at the sparkling globe. “Do you see those broken mirrors on the side that are kinda blue? I shot it with a paintball gun when I was 18. Knocked it right off the ceiling. Man, Becca was pissed.”

Steve laughed. “Sounds like you were kind of a dick.”

“I was a teenage boy with a teenage sister! What were you getting up to at that age?” Bucky challenged.

“I’ll have you know I spent all my time volunteering for old ladies and helping charities cross the street.” Steve said with an impossibly straight face, one Bucky was coming to know meant he was full of shit.

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, right. Anyway, Becca made me fix the bloody thing for her or she’d rat me out to our mom. I can’t believe she still has it.”

They were quiet for a moment before Steve asked, “Are they your parents?” indicating to a picture on the mantle where an older couple smiled from inside the picture frame.

“Yeah, that was taken just after Becca graduated high school. I was home on leave and we all went up the coast for a weekend. We found a vineyard, did a whole wine tasting tour for mom, and ate at a steakhouse for dad, and I bought as many cheesy tourist t-shirts I could find, with the sole purpose of replacing all the shirts in Becca’s suitcase with them.”

“And I retaliated by cutting the crotch out of his swimming trunks, knowing full well that mom would make me buy him new ones, so I bought the smallest, reddest, speedos at the store.” Becca came up behind them, and leaned on the mantelpiece. “And he wore them too.”

“Yes I did! Do you know how many numbers I got from guys at the beach because of that? Thank you sis.” Bucky reached over to kiss her on the temple but she swatted him in the face with her hand.

“Eww. Go away. Both of you. Go home.” Becca pushed Bucky away playfully, before pulling him into a bear hug. “Love you, big bro. Thank you for the cake, and today, and everything. Don’t know how I would have done it without ya.” Bucky hugged her tight then released her and ruffled her hair.

“You want us to go?”

“Yes please. I’m not kicking you out Steve, except I am. But you’re welcome back anytime.” She pulled Steve in for a hug too. “Bucky’s lucky to have you.”

“I, um, thanks.” Steve muttered, blushing. “I’m lucky to have him too.”

“Oh, god, you’re both so sappy. Go be sappy elsewhere.”

Laughing, they said goodbye to Becca and Chloe, promising to return soon, and left into the night.

………

Bucky took Steve back to his place, and they were ripping the clothes off each other before the front door was even shut. Bucky pinned Steve to the door, like he had the first night in Steve’s apartment and sucked Steve’s cock into his mouth, licking and lapping the way he now knew Steve liked the most. Steve arched his back into the blowjob, his hands tightly curled in Bucky’s hair, pulling and teasing Bucky’s sensitive scalp, and he came down Bucky’s throat with a glorious moan.

They made their way over to the bedroom where Bucky lay over Steve in the bed, arms curled around him, holding him close and he kissed Steve’s chest, up his sternum and along his collarbones, chasing the rise and fall of each breath and feeling the fluttering heartbeat beneath Steve’s skin on his lips. Bucky opened Steve up with his fingers and lube, Steve encouraging him _“yes, more!”._ Bucky groaned as Steve’s nimble fingers rolled the condom over his aching dick, and they both panted as Bucky pushed inside Steve, slowly letting him adjust, before pushing in more until he bottomed out, the fullness of his dick making Steve whimper.

Bucky held himself up on his elbows, careful not to let all his body weight bear down on Steve, but lay close enough to be chest to chest. When Steve met his eyes and whispered hoarsely _“Bucky, please!”_ , Bucky pulled his hips back, letting his dick slowly slide half way back out of Steve’s body, then pushed in fully again, just as slowly and repeated.

Steve whined “You can go faster than that,” and Bucky grinned, taking Steve’s mouth with his own, pushing in with his tongue the same time he pushed in with his dick, going a little faster building a rhythm back and forth. “Better?” Bucky breathed, smiling down at Steve.

Steve gripped his hands into Bucky’s hair, pulling theirs head together until they were forehead to forehead. He looked Bucky in the eye, growling “Bucky, _more!”_ and pulled Bucky’s hair tight. The pain on his scalp sent sparks down his back and Bucky shuddered, groaning. He braced his arms on the bed and shuffled his knees up under Steve’s body, titling Steve’s legs up, and thrust down harder than before. The new angle caused Steve to keen and stutter out moan after moan, his body quivering with every quick thrust Bucky pushed into him.

Every moan and _“fuck!”_ and _“more!”_ from Steve’s lips pushed Bucky to the edge and he thrilled at watching the smaller man come untouched below him, Steve’s cock spilling out over his abdomen as convulsions wracked through his legs and chest. Bucky thrusted twice more as his passion reached its peak and he emptied into the condom, the pleasure pulling a sob from his throat as he collapsed onto the bed beside Steve in a mess of limbs and sweat and cum.

Bucky lay in the afterglow. Steve, a boneless heap beside him, had fallen asleep quickly and Bucky listened to the gentle huff that Steve’s breath made against his chest.

Maybe Bucky was a bit gun-shy to admit that he might be in love, but if anything, he knew that what he had with Steve was the best thing he’d ever had with a guy. It choked him up and he brushed tears from his eyes, snuggling in closer to the sleeping blonde, grateful for whatever forces that had brought Steve Rogers into his life.

……………………………………………………………………….

Bucky knew the restaurant looked familiar. He’d realised 10 minutes into the blind date that it was the same restaurant he’d met Steve in, and the guilt of being here with someone else was getting to him. Maybe Becca had a point about telling Steve, he thought, but Bucky still didn’t know how to explain it without it sounding bad. It didn’t help Bucky one bit that the guy sitting opposite him, Chris, had the same blue eyes as Steve, but with shorter cropped hair and dark blond stubble across his jaw. It also didn’t help that Chris was actually a decent guy, and charismatic enough to make it a decent date, even with Bucky’s heart not in it. They were halfway through their meal and Bucky had resolved to get some ideas from Becca on how to tell Steve about all of this, and even considered telling the next guy up front that he wasn’t Brock or was in a relationship or something, so that he didn’t have to lie anymore. That decided, Bucky relaxed a bit and worked through how he’d let Chris down gently at the end of their meal. Chris was in the middle of a funny story about training up his pound rescued dog, when Bucky heard his name being called behind him.

“Bucky! Hey, I thought that looked like you! I’m so glad we ran into you!”

Bucky turned and his stomach dropped. _This couldn’t be happening._ Coming towards his table were Steve and Sam, all happy and hopeful. _SHIT._ Chris stopped, mid-sentence at the interruption. Sam waved at them both.

“Hey man. Do you two work together? We’re just out celebrating tonight, I offered to invite you along but Steve was convinced you work Fridays.”

“I was sure you said you were working tonight, sorry Buck.” Steve said, his smile bright. “We just got hired by Pepper Potts to update her entire charity’s design. All thanks to you and Chloe!”

“Thanks to _your_ artistic talent,” Sam pointed out to Steve before turning back to Bucky, “But yeah, thanks to you too for the introduction.”

Bucky sat there dumbfounded, completely unable to process the moment. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._ The man he was crazy about, possibly even loved, had just walked in on Bucky dating another man, and was standing there, smile bright as day, no concern beyond celebrating, not realising exactly what was happening. It felt like the IED going off under the jeep ahead of him, happening in slow motion; for the second time in his life Bucky could see the most devastating thing right in front of him, but was powerless to do anything about it. He didn’t know what to do.

“Yeah, that sounds great for you guys,” Chris said apologetically, bringing the focus back to the table “but if you don’t mind, we’re kind of in the middle of a date.” and Bucky felt the world give out beneath him.

“A…. date?”

Steve was no longer smiling. His face went from confused to disbelieving, to distraught to gutted as he looked at Bucky, his eyes silently begging Bucky to tell him it was all a lie. And Bucky couldn’t. The world stopped around him. Bucky could hear Sam and Chris both talking at him from different sides, but all he could see was Steve.

“It’s not – I’m – shit – Steve –“ Bucky couldn’t find the right thing to say, knowing full well that there was no right thing to say, _but he had to try,_ he couldn’t ruin this, couldn’t let Steve go without telling him – _he couldn’t let Steve go_ –

“Is this a date?” Steve asked him point blank, and Bucky, knowing he couldn’t lie to Steve anymore, had to tell him the worst truth.

“Yes.”

Steve shook his head and turned away, eyes wet and accusing, _“Fuck you.”_ and stormed out the bar, out the same door they had left together through only a couple of months ago, once so happy and giddy after a miraculous first date, where Steve had sassed Brock, and Bucky had kissed Steve in the street, _and every wonderful thing had happened between them since then_ – Bucky stood to follow him but found himself stopped by Sam. Steve’s college friend and business partner was looking over him with the same careful eye as when they had met, but this time there was no warm greeting.

“Sam, please –“ but he was cut off with a finger stab to the chest.

“I would happily stand here and give you a damn piece of my mind right now, but my best friend in the world just went out that door, and I’m going after him to make sure he’s going to be ok. Just know that you’re a dick.”

“Brock? What’s going on?” Bucky turned to Chris, who was still sitting at the table completely confused. Bucky was aware of Sam leaving the building to his right, he had to follow quickly or else he’d lose Steve, but Bucky was delayed by the small amount of decency he knew he still had left. Pulling his jacket off the back of the chair, Bucky sighed and looked Chris in the eye,

“You – shit. You deserve an explanation. I’m not Brock. I’m not the guy you were meant to be set up with. He’s a guy I know, who’s making me go on his dates for him, even though I’ve met this great guy and have something really special... You deserve better than Brock – and I guess you deserve better than me, too. I’m sorry. I have to go save… whatever I can.” Bucky shrugged into his jacket, pulled his wallet out and dropped several notes onto the table.

“Dinner’s on me. You really do seem like a great guy. I hope your next date goes better for you.” and Bucky dashed out into the street.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Bucky can’t believe it happened. He was so happy, so, finally, happy with Steve, and now because of a stupid bet, it could be all ruined. There was no sign of Steve or Sam on the street, and Bucky ran the two blocks to Steve’s apartment, but either they hadn’t gone there or weren’t answering the buzzer and he was left out, pacing in the dark. Steve had turned off his phone, every time Bucky called him it just went straight to voicemail.

_“Hi! This is Steve Rogers, SHIELD GRAPHICS. You can reach me during office hours at –“_

Bucky threw back the beer and waved down the bartender at The Bunker for another one. Bucky had taken a taxi from Steve’s apartment to his office, to the tattoo parlour, both of which were closed, and defeated, had asked to be dropped off at his usual watering hole. Becca wasn’t answering her phone either, her girl’s spa weekend was underway and Chloe was at her dads, and Bucky didn’t know what else to do but drink away his sorrow.

A new beer was put down in front of him. He didn’t know which number this one was.

A stupid bet. Brock. Fucking Brock, who couldn’t even nut up and go on his own fucking dates. If he had then Bucky would never have met Steve, never would have lied, never would have felt this shitty, never would have hurt the one decent guy to give him the time of day…

_“Hi! This is Steve Rogers, SHIELD GRAPHICS. You can –“_

Bucky downed the next bottle and told the bartender to give him two and save himself the walking, and then there were two bottle sat down in front of him.

Brock. Boasting he could beat Bucky at air hockey with the dates on the line – the fucker had never beaten him like that before. Bucky was on fire that night and Brock had still beaten him with a couple of miraculous saves – it hadn’t even looked like he’d gotten to them in time, but the buzzer didn’t go off and Bucky had celebrated prematurely.

Down went the first bottle. Up went the second.

Brock’s gleeful cheers rang through Bucky’s memory.

_“Hi! This is Steve Rogers –“_

Brock’s gleeful cheers rang through Bucky’s ears – in real time. He looked over his shoulder from his bar stool and saw Brock down by the air hockey tables, punching the air and holding out his hand in a “gimme” gesture to the surly looking guy on the other side. The surly one slapped some cash into Brock’s hands and he kissed note in mocking jubilation.

The quick consumption of beer swirled in Bucky’s gut menacingly and blocked his reason from his brain, and Bucky found himself getting up from his barstool. The floor seemed a little further away than his feet realised, and he stumbled a bit, catching the bar to steady himself.

Brock has started up a new game with another of the men there, and was intently leaning over the table, paddle in hand. The game sprung to life over the table, each man swinging as the puck danced between them. The clatter was usually a pleasant sound to Bucky, one of challenge and pride and achievement, but in his heart-broken state it just sounded like unwanted noise. He gripped a nearby table and watched intently. They hadn’t noticed him in the small crowd.

He was going to get Brock back. When this game was over, Bucky was going to damn well beat Brock like he should have that night… and then he would find Steve and apologise and explain and hopefully, hopefully everything would be back to normal… But first he would beat Brock like he should have done. Bucky watched the game with an eagle eye, letting the focus and the clatter start to sober him, watched Brock get a goal and then fail to stop the other man’s goal… no, the buzzer didn’t go off, so Brock must have saved it in time... the puck bounced and clattered and Bucky watched it sail across the black table and once again it flew towards Brock’s goal … but the buzzer didn’t sound and Brock’s opponent groaned… and missed as Brock sent the puck into his goal, the buzzer sounding on the other side… Brock’s free hand snuck down to the underside of the table… Bucky had seen him do that a couple of times… after each missed goal… but only ever on the black table… was it for luck?... what was it?...

The other man’s puck bounced off the back board of the goal and the buzzer failed again… this time Bucky saw that Brock’s hands were nowhere near the goal, but Brock cheered like he’d stopped it… and his hand flicked down under the table again…

_…That’s not right…_ Bucky thought…

“You’re cheating!” Brock’s opponent roared.

“How!? The table didn’t buzz? How’s that me?” Brock yelled back in defence.

Brock was cheating….

_Brock was cheating…._

_They’d played on the black table the night of the bet. Brock had cheated…_

The thought rang loud as fuck through Bucky’s head and echoed the accusation from the other man who was at the time throwing down his paddle in disgust and storming off; half of the crowd yelling “Cheater!” the other half yelling “Quitter!”. Bucky hadn’t realised he was moving towards Brock until Brock was right in front of him. Brock looked surprised but pleased to have someone he could side with.

“Oh, hey Bucky! Can you believe some guys? Don’t want to admit they’re losers – “

Bucky grabbed Brock by the jacket with both hands.

“You cheated. The night of the bet. _You cheated, didn’t you!?”_

“What the hell, Barnes!?” Brock wrestled against Bucky’s grip.

“Admit it! You’ve got something shady going with that black table... you fucker, you could never beat me –“

Brock sneered and wrested himself free of Bucky's grasp. Looking around to see that they were out of earshot from his last opponent, Brock leaned in and gloated.

“Finally figured it out, did you? I’m too good to lose to you and your gimp arm every year, it was fun watching you fail and squirm as you had to go on all of my dates!”

Bucky shoved him towards the far wall, the two of them crammed between the air hockey tables and the bar leaner.

“You couldn’t even handle going out with all of those men, could you? Not until you found the runt of the bunch –“

SMACK

Brocks head snapped back as Bucky’s fist collided with it, his rage and guilt and self-loathing all thrown into the punch at the man who had started it all. Brock spat out a _“Fuck!”,_ wiping blood from under his nose, rolling his shoulders out menacingly.

“You’re going to fucking pay for that, Barnes.”

Bucky knew Brock was going to come back swinging at him and he didn’t care. If he got one thing right tonight, it was to beat this asshole, come what may. Brock came at him low, Bucky braced himself for the tackle, but stuck where they were in the dance floor, Bucky couldn’t stop from being driven kidney first into the edge of the black hockey table. He grabbed Brock bodily and rolled them both to the side, bar stools clattering to the ground as Brock kicked and fought to stay on his feet.

The noise in the bar had increased around them and somewhere in the middle of their scuffle two large man in bar security shirts intervened. Bucky felt his left arm being pulled back and he twisted away instinctively to release the pressure, opening himself up to a direct punch from Brock, Bucky’s head swept sideways and he tasted blood and felt a stinging on his lips. Bucky kicked out at Brock, but was denied as Brock was hauled back by security.

They were manhandled separately up the bar and out the front door, told in no uncertain terms to go in different directions. The cool night air hit Bucky with a start on his split lip and he raised one hand in surrender, the other gripping his side. Staggering backwards he saw Brock stare him down but back off in the presence of the sober and bigger bar security. Bucky turned away from The Bunker, feeling hollow and heartbroken, wishing he could start the whole night over.

…………………………………………………

“Now what the hell have you gone and done, Bucky?”

Bucky groaned, his head feeling like a sack of lead. After being turfed from The Bunker, he went the one place that felt like home. Using his spare key, he crashed on Becca’s grey couch, where now, Becca stood over him, the morning light streaming through the curtains. He was still to groggy to tell if she was mad or sad, and then he remembered where she was supposed to be.

“What about your spa date...” Bucky trailed off, struggling to sit up.

“What about your blind date?” Becca countered, and then saw his face and gasped “Oh, Buck, what the hell?” she knelt down and reached towards him. Bucky flinched as her fingers brushed his cheek. “Did you get into a fight?”

“Mmm, yeah...” Bucky rubbed his eyes. His knuckles were red and scuffed and sore and his face felt much the same. He only hoped Brock looked and felt worse.

“You left 3 messages on my phone, all about Steve and your date and how it was all over and you'd ruined everything. How the hell did that end in a fight? Bucky? Fucking spill.”

Bucky rested his arms on his knees and closed his eyes in an effort to let his head stop spinning, and started talking. He told Becca everything from the date with Chris, his plan to tell Steve everything, Steve showing up at the restaurant, Bucky trying to find him, ending up at the bar, to the fight with Brock.

.............

“Ok, this is enough.”

Bucky had been moping on Becca’s couch for a week, reports from the fight at the Bunker had reached his supervisor and both Bucky and Brock had been suspended without pay for 10 days. They'd had to show for a disciplinary meeting, and Brock had definitely looked worse than when he and Bucky had parted ways. Bucky had to wonder if the guys Brock had been cheating before the fight had caught up with him too. His boss had read them both the riot act and sent them away and since then he’d been camped out on his sister’s couch eating ice cream, watching soap operas and generally feeling sorry for himself as his sister and niece tried to cheer him up. Becca finally looked fed up.

“You know I love you, bro, and I've given you time to process and grieve, but you have to talk to him.”

Bucky looked up from where he was bundled on the couch. Chloe had helped him create a fort on the second day, and the blankets had stayed with him and assimilated into his burrito bed roll.

“He's not going to want to talk to me.” He mumbled, tucking himself further under the blankets.

Becca sat down atop her blanketed brother, eliciting a groan, making him wriggle enough under her until they were both sitting up, him under the blankets, her on top. Once she was settled, she kept talking.

“He may not want to talk to you, but you know you _have_ to talk to him.”

“He's _definitely_ not going to want to listen to me.” Bucky said sullenly.

Becca rolled her eyes, reached underneath them both, hiked out a cushion and thumped Bucky on the head.

“Ow!”

“Oh? Did that hurt?” She swung the cushion again, thumping her brother in the same place.

“Stop it!”

“Make me.” Becca swung the cushion again and Bucky wriggled to try and duck out of her reach, but his arms were wrapped tight under the blankets and couldn't escape his sister’s onslaught. The combination of Bucky twisting and Becca swinging the cushion ended with them both dumped off the couch onto the floor. Bucky extracted himself from the blanket swathe, and sat up, kicking his foot against his sister’s leg.

“What was that for, Becca?”

She kicked him back. “Had to see if there was still some fight left in ya. And what do you know? There is.” She pulled her hair back off her face and sighed.

“You have to talk to Steve. Even if it doesn't patch things up. He deserves an explanation. And you deserve the chance to say sorry. Properly.”

Bucky sighed.

“Yeah, I know.”

………………………………………………………………….

Bucky paced through _Triskelion Florist,_ a complete nervous wreck. He wanted to apologise properly, which to him meant a big gesture like flowers, but he didn't know how it would be received. He couldn’t focus this close to Steve, he knew that Steve was just through the brick wall, but walking in now and making a scene at his workplace would be unfair, so he was waiting until closing. The girl behind the counter was looking uncomfortable, so Bucky turned to mouth _“sorry”_ at her for the third time in ten minutes. Bucky was going nuts, he had to pull it together. Bucky stopped, clamped his hands on his face, repeated his breathing techniques, and looked up again. He was going to do this properly. That meant all out. He picked the brightest, most artistic looking bouquet on the stand, paid the florist and looked at his watch. If he was going to do this, he had to do this now. Exiting the florist, he turned left and, bouquet in hand, pushed open the door to _SHIELD GRAPHICS_.

Sam stood up from behind the computer, face darkening when he saw who it was and Bucky couldn't blame him.

“You better damn well be here to apologise, or I'm gonna kick your punk ass out.”

Bucky held up the flowers in one hand and the other one palm up in a gesture of surrender.

“I owe him an explanation. And yes, an apology. Can I... will he even see me?”

Sam looked him over. “Just hold up there.”

Sam ducked back behind the partition, and after a minute Steve tentatively stepped out. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, blocking any gesture or welcome. He looked up at Bucky briefly but quickly looked away, clearing his throat.

“Sam said you have something to tell me.” His voice was flat, and it crushed Bucky to know that he had been the one to shut Steve down like that. Bucky took a deep breath and nodded. He owed Steve this.

“I know I'm the last person you probably want to see right now, but I owe you an explanation. You deserve to know what was going on, you deserve so much better than everything... the night we met, you weren't set up on a date with me. You were set up on a date with Brock Rumlow, a guy I work with. But I lost a bet to Brock, and as a result, _I've_ been going on his blind dates instead of him. Every Friday for the past 3 months. A whole bunch of guys I didn’t want to date, that I had to let down gently. And in the middle of it I met you...”

Bucky felt his throat start to choke up, but he had to push through. He hadn’t said it all yet. He cleared his throat and carried on.

“Fuck, you're the best guy I've ever met in my life, and I was so happy and I didn’t know how to tell you that we weren’t ever supposed to meet. So I lied. I lied, and that was a shit thing to do. Becca kicked my ass so much over it, but I didn't want to lose you. After Chloe’s birthday I was trying to figure out how to say it because I didn't want to lie anymore... but I waited too long. And I know I fucked this up between us. I know that... I'm not here to ask for another chance because I sure as hell don’t deserve it. But you deserved to know. And if you want me to go now, I will... I'm sorry, Steve, for everything.”

By the end of his speech, Bucky was staring at the wall, his face wet and voice shaky. He thought that if he looked at Steve he would fall apart, and swore to himself to hold himself together until he'd at least left the building. Steve didn’t say anything, and Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

“He's telling you the truth.”

The voice that interjected was one Bucky hadn’t heard before. It came from behind Steve, where an older black man in a dark coat had emerged, just right of the partition. Steve looked back at his customer in surprise.

“Is he?”

“I set you up on that date Rogers, if you'll recall, and this ain't the man you were supposed to meet.” The man turned to Bucky. “You said you been on all of Brock’s dates for him? I'm going to have to have a little chat with him about that. You see, he lost a bet to _me_ , which is why he had all the dates in the first place.”

That clicked in Bucky's head. “You're Nick? From the gym?”

“Mmm hmm. Fury Fitness Centre. Now if y’all excuse me, I've got an ass to whup.”

Nick exited the conversation with as much sudden flair as he’d entered it, leaving both men stunned. Steve finally looked at Bucky, frowning and biting his bottom lip.

“I went on a date with you because Nick won a bet...” Steve began, “and you went on a date with me because you _lost_ one?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Bucky cringed, heart sore that their relationship could be summed up so simply.

“My mom always said betting was a bad idea.”

Unable to compete with the life lessons of Sarah Rogers, Bucky squared his head, setting the flowers on the desk by the computer before going to leave. At the door he turned around, to get one last look at the man he knew he would never forget.

“You were my best bad idea.”

……………………………………………………………………………………

Bucky fiddled nervously with the cuffs of his jacket. Becca came up behind him, giving him a supportive rub on the back. They’d been invited, he reminded himself. Sam had assured them that Steve had been the one to extend the invitation, even if he hadn’t made the call himself. Bucky hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the day he’d apologised at _SHIELD Graphics_ , and the thought of seeing him now terrified him.

The door opened to the loft apartment belonging to one Sam Wilson, the host ushering them in with a warm welcome that Bucky wasn’t sure they entirely deserved, but as Becca had repeatedly chastised him in the days previous – if Steve thought Bucky was worth another chance, then Bucky had to believe it too.

They made their way inside, Sam and Becca chatting amicably, to the dining room where Steve stood up from his chair, taking a quick gulp from a glass in his hand. He was wearing his usual navy blue skinny jeans and the dark grey sweater Bucky had seen him wear they day they met for coffee. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and came over to greet them. He nodded at Becca and then he and Bucky just stared at each other, neither one knowing what to say first.

“Y’all of course know each other.” Sam said dryly into the awkward silence, breaking the tension in the room. Bucky let out the breath he’d been unaware he was holding and Steve glared at his friend. Sam raised his eyebrow in response, a silent conversation happening between old friends. Sam then turned to face Becca.

“My dear, would you like to help me serve up and leave these two hopeless fools to themselves?”

“I’d be delighted. What did you make for us?” Becca stepped up to follow Sam to the kitchen, elbowing Bucky in the back on the way past. Bucky jumped, bristling at his sister’s physical prompting, only to meet her eye when she turned around and she waggled her finger in a _go and talk to him!_ gesture. Bucky fidgeting his shoulders, trying and failing to act like he was anything but awkward as hell.

Steve cleared his throat nervously. “I’m, ahem, glad you came.”

“I’m, uh, glad you invited us. I mean, me. I mean… I didn’t think, know, that you’d want to…” Bucky’s rambling trailed off, and he shoved his hands in his pockets to try and contain himself.

“Yeah. Me too. I mean… ugh, this is terrible.” Steve muttered. They stood uncomfortably, looking around at anything but each other. Bucky couldn’t take the silence.

“Would it be too much to suggest a do over?” Bucky tried joking. He cringed and shook his head immediately, mentally kicking himself for being so fucking awkward. He tucked him hair behind his ear as a habit.

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s hand through his hair then darted to the floor where he stared for ages, fiddling with rim of the cup in his hands. Bucky watched the long slender fingers fidget, still graceful even in anxiousness. Then one of those hands extended out between the two of them and Steve met Bucky’s eye.

“Steve Rogers.”

Bucky wiped the sweat from his palm before gingerly taking Steve’s hand. They squeezed palms gently.

“Bucky Barnes.”

_“FUCKING FINALLY!”_ two voices roared from the kitchen doorway, where Steve and Bucky turned to see Becca and Sam standing staring at them. The sudden interruption burst the built up tension and Steve snorted, which unlocked Bucky’s nerves and they both started laughing.

Maybe this might turn out ok after all.


End file.
